Another Place, Another Time
by Snafu1000
Summary: AU. Erin Shepard. Talia Cousland. Alistair Theirin. A resurrected Spectre and her two best friends are trying to save the galaxy, but a side mission to take on the Shadow Broker complicates the hell out of the life of one grouchy grunt who just wants to keep things simple.
1. Chapter 1

_Ummm … yeah. The muse goes rogue again. Those of you who aren't familiar with my Moments In Time series probably won't give a damn about this, and those of you who are would probably prefer me to be working on the main story, which hopefully I can do now that I've tossed this particular plot bunny a carrot to gnaw on instead of my brain._

 _Definitely AU, not exactly a crossover. As usual, more discussion at the end for those that are interested._

* * *

The Shadow Broker went down. Hard.

Talia didn't give a shit. She kept unloading round after round from the M-22 Eviscerator into the twitching hulk of the yahg, advancing step by step until she was at point blank range, ignoring the growing warmth in her hands as she pushed the limits of the heat sinks. The bastard had already eaten enough ordinance to bring down a cruiser, but that wasn't the only reason she kept firing, wasn't the only reason for the red haze of rage that touched the vision in her right eye, the pounding of her pulse in her temples or the strong urge to look up the native planet of a species she'd never heard of until fifteen minutes ago and nuke it to a glowing cinder.

This particular bucket of fugly had tried to sell her best friend's corpse to the Collectors – and evidently by extension to the Reapers, had tried to murder said best friend's girl, brought them to this fucking backwater of a planet on a clusterfuck of a mission that had her hanging ass off this POS ship over the mother of all thunderstorms, sniping mechs and mercs while dodging stray lightning bolts. She was bruised to hell and back, had a split in her forehead that had gummed up the lashes on her right eye, and the distant thrum of pain beneath the flood of adrenaline announced that she'd busted a few ribs getting slammed around in the final fight. Taken together, it was more than enough reason to want the fucker to get back up so that she could take him down again.

And it was the _only_ reason, damn it.

A hand fell on her arm, squeezing lightly. "T.C., ease up." Erin. The only one who ever called her that. "He's dead, chica. Ease up." Her voice was as calm as ever, cutting through the haze like a hot knife through butter.

"Not dead enough," Talia snarled, but she let off of the trigger, head turning to search every nook, cranny and shadow of the room, ignoring the sparks of pain as minute contractions of the periorbital muscles shifted the visual display from thermal to infrared, cycling back and forth, seeking anyone else in need of killing. The Alliance had offered her a cosmetic cybernetic implant that would have been indistinguishable from her other eye, but the eyepatch facade had allowed the use of a far more extensive array. It was pushing the limits; they'd warned her about that, warned her about the pain, but when she'd given the go-ahead anyway, they'd done it, and it had been more than worth it. In addition to the thermal/IR scanning, her left 'eye' now had 20x magnification optics with range-finding capabilities and the ability to calculate wind speed and direction, elevation and atmospheric density, all of it linked by transponder to her Black Widow, allowing her to nail a batarian between his eyes at two-plus klicks. Plus, the eyepatch looked badass.

Besides, compared to the fucking batarians popping the original model out of the socket with the equivalent of a rusty spoon, the present sensations barely qualified as discomfort.

"All clear," she reported at last, shifting back to standard optics and turning to Commander Erin Shepard: best friend, fellow badass, so-called 'Butcher of Torfan', erstwhile Savior of the Citadel and modern-day Lazarus. She tipped her head toward the dead yahg. "Mission accomplished?"

Green eyes searched her face, but Talia kept her own expression passive, and Shepard finally gave in. "Looks that way," she agreed, one shoulder tipping up in a slight shrug. She knew Talia well enough not to push.

A sudden cacophony of noise shattered the eerie silence that had fallen over the chamber with the cessation of gunfire, explosions and colliding bodies: the massive communications console returning to life after the power flux that Liara's biotic endgame had caused. Better than a score of voices from operatives all over the galaxy clamored together, all of them asking a variant of the same question:

 _What the_ _ **fuck**_ _is going on?_

Liara T'soni, shy archaeologist turned badass information broker, had been standing, staring at the Shadow Broker in disbelief. This was her mission, her idea. Shep had dealt herself in because she loved the asari; Talia had dealt herself in because Erin was one of her two best friends, and because she owed the asari. Liara was the reason that one of her two best friends was not a charred corpse in the hands of the Collectors, which meant that Talia was down with whatever she needed done.

She lifted her head now, blue eyes taking in the flashing lights and glowing monitors of the console for a long minute before moving to stand in front of it. They had just taken down the most powerful information broker in the galaxy, so a bit of gloating to his lackeys definitely seemed in order, but when she activated the microphone, her first words were _not_ "Just pwned your boss. Have a nice day!".

"This is the Shadow Broker." Her own voice in the room was almost lost beneath the voice from the speakers, the distortion algorithms making it sound just like it had when the yahg had been the one doing the broadcasting.

What the fuck _was_ going on?

"Shep?" Talia glanced warily from Liara to Erin, hoping for some enlightenment, but the Spectre looked as stunned as she felt. The asari had changed over the previous two years – fuck, they all had, but while the increase in the badassery quotient had worried Shepard, Talia had generally approved; the girl was a biotic powerhouse … might as well have an attitude to match, right? If her stated reasons for this mission had been a lie, however, if she'd just used Erin to topple a rival and claim an empire … well, gratitude only went so far, and Talia let her finger return to the trigger of the shotgun, the pressure just shy of firing. If it turned into a twofer day on Shadow Brokers, so be it.

"Wait." The one word was enough to put her on standby, watching as Shepard approached Liara. The asari might be an unknown quantity, but Talia had followed Erin Shepard on a dozen different tours of hell, including the hunt for Saren, and trusting her was not even a question that needed to be asked. Liara kept talking, explaining away the down time as the result of a systems upgrade, setting up deadlines for status reports. Becoming the goddamn Shadow Broker.

 _Fuck, Shep, I hope you know what you're doing._ Not that having the Shadow Broker on their side would be a bad thing, as long as she _was_ on their side, but -

The sound of footsteps in the hall they'd come in through had Talia at the door just as it slid open. She saw the pistol first and reacted fast, letting the shotgun go, her right hand shooting out to catch the thin wrist, fingers digging into tendon and nerve to make the hand holding the pistol release it. The cybernetics that made up most of her left arm included an integrated omni-tool, and a flick of that wrist forged a silicon-carbide blade: razor sharp and white hot. Before she could drive the blade into the chest of her target, however, her focus shifted from the empty hand up the arm, and Lieutenant Commander Talia Cousland, Systems Alliance N7 marine, found herself staring into the wild blue eyes of the redhead that was the purported reason for this clusterfuck of a mission in the first place.

 _Shit._

* * *

 _So, a few weeks back, I was trying to help a friend bust down a writer's block and came up with the idea of an ME/DA crossover. The friend found another way to break the block, but the idea wouldn't go away._

 _It's not a crossover in the true sense of the word. It has no direct connection to Moments In Time, no Thedas, no Grey Wardens. But after – shit, I've forgotten how many years of writing for those characters, I've got a solid enough grip on them that exploring how the personalities might evolve and interact given a very different set of backgrounds and circumstances intrigued me._

 _I gave some thought to plugging more the DA NPC's into the place of their ME counterparts: Wynne for Chakwas or Samara, Zev for Thane, Morrigan for Miranda (that one was the most tempting) & so on, but I'm quite fond of the ME cast, so in the end, Talia, Leliana & Alistair are all that made the jump, & Leliana is the only one who is replacing an NPC from the game._

 _Thought about replacing Shepard with Talia or Alistair, but decided that I liked the idea of a perspective from the sidelines. Between Shep, Talia & Al, all three origin/service histories will be covered._

 _Again, these characters are **not** the same ones that are in MIT; my goal is to make them distinct in this universe, but still recognizable at the core of each personality. Only time will tell if I succeed. I opted to start _ in medias res _, in the middle of ME2, because I really don't want another epic length story to keep up with. Not sure how long this one will wind up being or an update schedule, because as soon as I get this plot bunny to stop humping my leg, I'm headed back to MIT & the other stories in that 'verse._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note – Next chapter up! Glad y'all seem to like this little side trip. Thanks as usual to everyone who has read, faved and followed, with special shout-outs to my reviewers: Scarlet Arachnid, Madcat Capers, Drummerchick7, ValeriNeria, CACNTommyBoi & the eternally anonymous Guest!_

* * *

 _ **Six Years Earlier: 2179 CE, Arcturus Station**_

"Buy a girl a drink?"

Talia glanced sideways at the redhead who had slid onto the barstool next to her. Easy enough on the eyes, but - "I'll pass." Not why she was here tonight.

"I could buy you one instead?"

Talia glanced back, trying to decide if the winsome smile was enticing enough to bother. "Got one," she replied, lifting her mug. And you didn't chug a perfectly mixed Black and Tan, thank you.

"The next round, then?" the redhead persisted.

Mild interest was shifting to mild annoyance. "Why?" she asked bluntly.

"Drinking alone is no fun."

"I'm not drinking alone." Shep and Alistair were on the dance floor with their partners of the moment, but it was way too early in the evening for either of them to be hooking up. They'd be back for another round in a song or two. Another night, Talia might be out there with them, but tonight, she was in the mood to sit and drink good beer. She'd already turned down a couple of offers for drinks or a dance.

"I am."

Talia regarded her with an upraised eyebrow. The pout was plainly intended to be more cute than mournful. "I can see a dozen warm bodies who would be happy to cure that for you," she observed. "Why me?"

"Because you are the most interesting person in the room."

The sincere warmth in the redhead's voice had the needle on the bullshit meter bouncing. "Got a thing for scars, do you?" Talia inquired, taking a sip from her mug. She'd never made any real attempt to hide them, though the eyepatch facade over the implants that had replaced her left eye were a definite improvement on the empty socket. Her clothes hid the worst of it, but the left side of her face and neck still bore the marks from the acid burns. Most people wouldn't call her hideous – or even ugly – but more than a few called her intimidating as hell, and she was fine with that.

Her would-be drinking buddy didn't seem to be among that number, however. "Scars just mean that you survived," she observed, still piling on a thick layer of sincerity.

Talia snorted. Apparently, being good looking meant that you didn't get a lot of practice with pickup lines. "Thanks, Doc, but I've had my psych eval for this year."

"I'm not a psychiatrist." The redhead cocked her head, seeming to consider something for a moment before going on. "I'm a journalist."

 _Oh,_ _ **hell**_ _, no._ "And?" Talia sat up straighter, putting a crap-ton of ominous behind that single syllable.

The redhead shrugged. "And N7 is hot news: the best of the best. I wanted to do a story on the new graduates from the program, and I picked you as the focus." She leaned a bit closer, voice lowering. "Even before you entered ICT, you'd survived Batarians, thresher maws … I meant what I said before: you _are_ the most interesting person in this room."

"To a vulture, maybe," Talia grunted, but now that she knew the woman's angle, she'd actually relaxed a bit. She'd been dealing with reporters since Mindoir; they could only survive if you fed them. "There are seventeen others who finished the program this time. Go bug them for your story." Shep had a military pedigree stretching back six generations; Alistair had dragged himself out of the slums of earth on sheer determination. Not that Talia planned on informing the nosy bitch of anything she might not already know. Which reminded her: "You already knew who I am."

"I never said I didn't," the redhead pointed out, then, suddenly conciliatory, "Look, I'm sorry if you feel that I deceived you. Let me buy you a drink and we can talk for a bit. I give you my word that I won't publish anything unless you give me permission."

"The word of a reporter," Talia drawled, rolling her right eye toward the ceiling.

"I'm a journalist, not a reporter," the redhead corrected her, big blue eyes all serious now, "and I keep my word."

"Ri-ight." Talia leaned back against the bar, took another drink of beer. "I feel _so_ much better now." On the dance floor, Erin had obviously spotted her company and gave her a big, go-for-it grin. If she only knew.

"Well, if you don't want to talk, how about a dance?" The redhead put a hand on her arm, but Talia snatched it away.

"Lady, what is it about 'No' that you're having trouble with?" she growled, her patience rapidly reaching its limits.

"You haven't actually said no yet," the other woman pointed out smugly.

She was right, damn it. "Let me correct that, then," Talia snapped, leaning down until they were nose to nose: close enough to smell the delicate floral scent of her perfume. "No. Hell, no. And fuck off." She sat back in her chair, glaring. "Clear enough?"

"Crystal." The redhead looked more amused than offended. "Can't blame a girl for trying," she said with a careless shrug as she slid off the bar stool and sauntered away, making sure Talia got a good look at what she'd turned down.

Oh, Talia could blame her, but she resolutely turned her eyes away from the swaying hips and back to the dance floor, taking a deep swallow of the Black and Tan and trying to ignore the irritating feeling that the redhead had managed to best her somehow. The girl was a lot more than just easy on the eyes, but she obviously knew it, used it. Wouldn't hurt for the princess not to get her way this time. Damn reporters, anyway; bloodsuckers, the lot of them, ready to screw over whoever they needed to in order to get their exclusive scoops.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?" Alistair leaped easily onto the barstool the redhead had vacated and ordered a beer. "She was hot!"

"She's a reporter," Talia told him.

"Ouch," he winced. "You're sure?"

"She told me she was. Actually, she said she was a _journalist_." Talia sneered as she emphasized the word. As if that was any different.

"Well …" He turned his head to glance after the redhead, clearly enjoying the view. "At least she was honest, right? I mean, if you know it, what's the harm in a dance … or whatever." He gave her a lopsided leer, waggling his eyebrows.

"I don't like reporters," she reminded him flatly. "You want to take a run at her, be my guest."

"I'm not the one she's interested in," he countered, watching her closely. "And we're supposed to be celebrating?"

"I am," she replied, lifting her mug. His exuberance could get wearying at times, but it went a long way toward counterbalancing the dark moods that threatened to drag her down on occasion. Tonight wasn't one of those occasions, however. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just in the mood for low-key tonight."

"Well, she definitely doesn't qualify as that," he smirked, nodding toward the dance floor, lecherous grin back in place. Against her better judgment, Talia followed his gaze, and -

 _Fuck …_

The redhead had snagged a partner of sorts in the form of a guy who was built like a krogan: narrow hips, broad chest and shoulders, no neck, and was currently demonstrating moves that would make an asari pole-dancer blush. Lithe curves moved in sensuous synchrony with the beat, the blue eyes closed, seemingly lost in the music. Her partner didn't have a chance in hell of keeping up, but he seemed happy to just shuffle his feet and enjoy the show, though she barely seemed aware of his presence. Eyes still closed, she drew her hands over her head, arms undulating as her head tipped back to expose the pale line of her throat, red hair catching dim fire in the flickering lights on the dance floor.

Talia swallowed, aware that Alistair was saying something to her, but unable to focus on the words. The hands came down, moving seductively over the swaying curves, and the chin lowered, blue eyes sliding open and looking straight at Talia for an electric moment, the full lips curving into a knowing smile.

 _God_ _ **damn**_ _it._

Talia twisted away, back to the bar, trying to ignore the dryness in her mouth, the heat prickling her skin. It hadn't been _that_ long since she'd gotten laid, damn it. "Like I said, be my guest," she growled, draining the Black and Tan in three swallows and lifting the empty mug in a signal for a refill.

"Ri-ight." The smug bastard didn't even try to hide the amusement in his tone. "I'm not much for redheads, anyway."

Talia shot him a skeptical look. "Since when?"

His grin was unrepentant. "Since tonight, anyway. I'm in a blonde sort of mood." He glanced toward the door and his eyes widened. "And if you'll excuse me, I think I've just spotted the next Mrs. Theirin." He hopped off the barstool, then hesitated, looking back at her. "You're sure you're all right?"

"Christ, I'm fine!" she exclaimed in mock exasperation, shoving him in the direction he'd been moving. "At least, I will be once you leave me the hell alone and go get laid!"

Mollified, he turned to go, but couldn't resist a parting shot. "Wouldn't hurt you, either."

"Yeah, right," Talia muttered, turning to claim the newly poured Black and Tan, determined to consume this one with the reverence it was due and resolutely keeping her back to the dance floor. "Not this time."

* * *

 _ **2185 CE, Hagalaz**_

Ancient fucking history, unfolding in her mind's eye in the split second before she reacted.

The omni-blade disintegrated with another flick of the wrist as Talia released her grip on the intruder and leaped back as if she'd been burned, only to leap back in a second later, instinct propelling her forward just in time to catch the redhead before she hit the floor.

"Don't hurt her, Talia!" Liara cried out, moving quickly toward them.

"Seriously?" Talia glowered irritably at the asari, straightening under a burden that wasn't nearly what it should have been, the feel of bones jutting too prominently beneath the skin and the familiar stench of wounds left to fester only adding to the pulse of anger behind her eye and the edge in her voice. "If I was going to fuckin' hurt her, she'd be dead already!" Not like she'd been in any condition to put up a fight; Talia wasn't sure how she'd made it as far as she had.

Not that she gave a damn. Professional curiosity, that was all.

"And what the hell was _that_ shit all about, anyway?" she demanded, gesturing awkwardly toward the comm panel, regretting it almost immediately as the woman in her arms cried out in pain.

"Be careful," Liara cautioned her reprovingly, brushing tangled red hair away from the pale face, drawing her hand back with a hiss. "She's burning up!" she murmured in dismay.

"What - what hap-" The redhead was barely conscious, but still struggling to speak.

"He's dead," Liara told her soothingly. "He can't hurt you any more, Leli."

Blue eyes hazed with fever and pain fought to focus. "But … you … why -"

"That's what I'd like to know," Erin spoke up. Her tone was mild, but Talia could see the wary tension in her friend's features.

Liara saw it, too, and her expression grew apprehensive. "Well, everyone who has seen the Shadow Broker face to face is dead, so ..." She trailed off, looking beseechingly at Shepard.

"So, you're gonna be the new Shadow Broker? Just like that?" Talia asked, still balancing the potential benefits with the possibility that they'd just been played by someone she'd thought was a friend.

"Is that a good idea, Lia?" The wariness in Erin's face was giving way to worry. Worry _for_ the asari, not about her.

"It's either that or lose everything," Liara replied, biting her lip. "His contacts, his trading sources; those will really help us."

"Us?" Erin's green eyes were openly questioning, and Talia couldn't really blame her. The asari had kept Shepard at arm's length ever since their reunion on Illium, seemingly consumed, first with the need for revenge, then the need to rescue the ally she'd thought dead. The one who'd helped her get Erin's body away from the Shadow Broker.

The one who was huddled broken in Talia's arms

But Liara had built her own empire in those two years: a formidable information broker in her own right. Shep had to be wondering if the reasons they'd been given were the real ones. Talia damn sure was.

Blue eyes brimmed with tears as Liara turned away, walking back to the communications panel. "With the Shadow Broker's information network, I can give you -" Her voice broke. "I can -" Her shoulders slumped, shaking visibly.

Erin took a step toward her, hesitated and looked toward Talia, the question in her eyes plain. Talia tipped one shoulder up in a half shrug, nodded.

 _Do it._

"I'll just … get her back to the Normandy," Talia murmured. Whatever conversation followed was bound to be awkward, emotional and most likely followed by make-up sex. Definitely time to go.

"Talia -" Liara had turned toward her, cheeks wet but concern touching her face. "Take care of her?"

"Jesus." Talia huffed a sigh, but Shep was giving her a look that was easy enough to read. "I promise," she said, wondering if they honestly thought she might just dump her over the side.

The asari gave her a quick, grateful nod, and Talia turned and strode toward the door. "Joker, this is Talia. Send the shuttle to my coordinates and tell Chakwas to prep the medbay."

The corridors on the massive ship were empty save for the corpses they'd left behind. She stepped over and around them, moving confidently back the way they'd come until she reached the door they'd breached from the exterior. The superstorm that concealed the ship was still raging outside, so she crouched just inside, waiting for the shuttle to descend through the wind and lightning.

"You came." The wondering words were a whisper, barely more than a breath. Talia did her best to ignore them, ignore the slender arms that wrapped around her neck, the face pressed into her shoulder. "You came."

 _Damn it._

* * *

 _The story is coming together, and I think we'll be doing the past-to-present thing for the next few chapters._


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Life's a little nuts right now, so I'm grabbing the plot bunnies that are hopping the highest, which means this one for now. I'm rather enjoying exploring these characters from a different angle, and I'm glad y'all seem to be, too. Thanks as always to those of you who have read, faved and followed, with special shout-outs to: CACNTommyBoi, Soirreb, ValeriNeria, wyles77, Madcat Capers, Drummerchick7, Alcandre, KalenCaelli and the always-anonymous Guest!_

* * *

 _ **2179 CE, Arcturus Station, Finnegan's Pub**_

"You all right?" Erin, cutting to the chase, as usual.

"Perfect," Talia told her, lifting her mug. "Good beer, good friends, good music. What more do I need?"

"Some action, maybe?" Shepard suggested, green eyes going briefly to the dance floor. Talia did not follow her gaze. "Looked like she was pretty interested in you."

Talia snorted. "Interested in an exclusive, you mean," she corrected her friend. "Reporter," she added by way of explanation.

"Ah." Erin bellied up to the bar, ordered a whiskey on the rocks. "The folks are gonna be here tomorrow," she said in an offhanded manner. "Want to take me out to dinner, celebrate me making N7." Her drink arrived, and she took a sip. "Want to come along?"

"Sure," Talia replied without hesitation. It might seem casual to someone on the outside looking in, but that hadn't been an invitation to a social occasion; it was a request for backup. They made a helluva trio: Talia's folks were dead, Alistair had never known his, and Erin hated being around hers. Ian and Hannah Shepard were a matched set of Alliance military heroes, with medals and citations dating back to the First Contact War and a family history of service going back a century and a half. From their daughter and only child, mere excellence was nowhere near acceptable. If she aced a test, they'd want to know why she hadn't gone for extra credit; if she graduated at the top of her class (which she had), they'd ask why it hadn't been by a wider margin.

She and Talia had butted heads - hard - in the N1 sessions, both of them gunning for top dog. A wary but mutual respect had bloomed by the end, growing into friendship by the time they'd finished N2. Talia didn't hold back - Shepard would've kicked her ass for that - but she'd gotten good at gauging when not to kick on the afterburners. At the end of N7, Erin held the top spot, with Talia a close second and Alistair cruising comfortably in the middle of the pack, and since Talia didn't have anything to prove to anyone but herself, she was fine with that.

Her presence at dinner would tone things down; surviving both batarians and thresher maws tended to impress the brass, as well as the press. "She had a weird accent," Talia mused, taking a sip of her beer.

"Who? The reporter you're not interested in?" Erin didn't bother to hide the smirk any more than Alistair had.

"Screw you," Talia replied with no real heat. They'd figured out early on that a literal interpretation of that wouldn't work. No matter how good the sex might have been, they'd kill each other out of the sack. Wasn't worth trashing the friendship. "It was weird, though ... like something you hear in the older vids." She took another drink, thinking about it, but not giving in to the mild urge to turn and look at the owner of the weird accent. "You know anywhere they speak French any more?"

Erin cocked her head, considering. "I've heard of some colonies that are set up to recreate some old Earth cultures. Gotta be at least a couple that speak French." Again with the goddamn smirk, a nod toward the floor. "You could ask her."

"Christ, if you and Al think she's that hot, one of you go for her!" Talia exclaimed in exasperation.

"Al's on a blonde binge tonight," Erin replied, nodding to where he was busy chatting up his current target, though his attention seemed to be fixed well south of her hair.

"And you?" Talia challenged her.

Shepard shrugged. "I'm looking for easy and no strings attached," she replied with a grin. "And someone looking to score a story has all kinds of strings."

Strings that would lead back to the parental units. Erin's entire life had been spent in the shadow of their expectations, and while she indulged in minor rebellions, such as hooking up in bars, she had thus far largely pushed forward, determined to meet those expectations. Talia could never decide if she envied her friend, or felt sorry for her, though at moments like this, the balance definitely tipped toward the latter.

"Besides," she went on, the damn smirk back, "wouldn't want to cut in on your action."

 _Seriously?_ Granted, the three of them busted each other's balls pretty much at will, but still ... "I told you," Talia shot back, "I'm not -"

"Let me go!"

Her mouth snapped shut, teeth coming together with a click as she glared at Shepard. Even underneath the pulse of the music and the layers of two dozen conversations, she recognized the voice, the accent, but she refused to turn and follow Erin's gaze.

"Looks like a D.I.D." Shepard observed, a dare-you gleam dancing in the green eyes.

 _D.I.D._ Short for damsel in distress. "That's his specialty, not mine," Talia growled, jerking her head in Alistair's direction.

"He's busy," Erin countered smoothly. Which wasn't entirely true. His attention still seemed centered on the blonde, but his posture had shifted subtly to readiness. He was aware of whatever was taking place on the dance floor, but he was waiting, watching. To see what she would do.

 _Shit._

After a final glower at Shepard, she set her mug on the bar and turned. The human krogan had the redhead's wrist gripped in a meaty hand and was trying to pull her toward him. She seemed more annoyed than alarmed, but was having no luck freeing herself from his grasp.

"I said let me go!"

"We ain't done dancin' yet," he growled, giving her arm a yank that sent her stumbling forward into him.

 _Well, crap_. A glance around showed no sign of the usually vigilant bouncers, and while most of the dancing in the vicinity had stopped, none of the onlookers seemed inclined to intervene. Talia slid off the barstool and moved forward.

"She's done, and so's the dance," she informed No-Neck flatly, keeping her stance balanced, hands open and loose at her sides. "Let her go."

Beady eyes beneath a cliff of a forehead glared at her. "You think you can make me, bitch?" he taunted.

 _Seriously?_ The N7 insignia on the uniform was more than just a Get Laid Free card in any bar in Systems Alliance space; it was a warning to the wise. "No, I don't think so," she replied, voice calm and level. "I _know_ I can, so why don't you be smart and walk away?" The redhead was watching her, making no attempt to escape. Damsel she might be, but she didn't seem particularly distressed, and Talia was considering taking her own advice when her peripheral vision caught movement on what most people thought was her blind side.

"Look out!" The redhead's cry of warning was a bit behind the curve, and Talia didn't even bother to turn her head when she drove her arm out, punching hard into the solar plexus of the mouthbreather who had tried rushing her from the left. The optics behind the eyepatch confirmed him folding over with a wheezing grunt, but her right eye never left No-Neck, whose own beady eyes widened as she deliberately opened and closed the fingers of the left hand, the lights of the cybernetics gleaming along the surface. They'd offered a cosmetic prosthesis for that, too; she'd turned them down, never wore gloves unless she was in an environmental suit. She was an Alliance-made killing machine, and damn proud of it.

"Last chance." Wiping the floor (and the walls, ceiling and tables) with him was tempting as hell, but the paperwork would be a bitch. Anywhere but Arcturus Station - N7 HQ - and she'd have gone ahead and let the chips fall, tried to spin it after, but at least half of the patrons here tonight were Alliance military; more than a few of them held no great love for special ops, and would be only too happy to report it if she swung first.

He wasn't going to back down; she could see that in the stubborn set of his jaw, and when a handful of his mates stepped up, she could see his spine stiffening. Five to one: she'd be hurting later, but no one would be able to spin this against her with those odds. She just had to wait for the numbers to make them brave enough to be stupid. "Which one of you ladies wants to dance first?" she drawled, deciding to help them along a bit.

For a second, she thought it was going to work, but then, just like that, their collective resolve crumbled as their eyes looked past her, and Talia didn't need to turn around to know that Erin and Alistair had taken up position at her back. She didn't say anything else, just gave them a cheerful, fuck-you grin; N7 to the third power was math that no sane individual wanted to fuck with, and while this bunch was undoubtedly stupid, they were apparently not crazy.

"Fuckit," No-Neck snarled after a long moment, shoving the redhead forward into Talia's arms. She caught the other woman, shifted her smoothly behind, ready for the sneak attack, but he was already backing away, trying hard to look like he was doing her a favor by tucking tail and running. She watched until they were off the dance floor, then turned to Shep and Al.

"Guess they didn't want to play."

"Too bad." Alistair's disappointment was about as genuine as the double D cups straining the front of the dress that the onlooking blonde was wearing, but if the look she was giving him was any indication, he'd displayed more than enough derring-do to get dragged back to her place as soon as he stepped away.

"Another time," Talia said with a shrug. Fights were easy enough to find when you were in the mood for one. "Thanks, man." She held out a fist, and he tapped it with his own.

"Anytime," he replied, and meant it. No matter what went down, he'd have her back, just like she'd have his, just like Shepard would have both their backs and they'd have hers. In the tightly knit microcosm of N7, they had formed something tighter still: a family, the bonds forged in fire and blood. One instructor in N3 had tried pasting them with the Three Musketeers label, but it hadn't stuck. Everybody else called them the Wolfpack, and tried not to piss any of them off.

As expected, the blonde had him in a liplock before he'd taken ten steps. Deciding she didn't want to see if she waited to get him out the door before mounting him, Talia turned back to Erin, shaking her head. "Christ, he's a dog."

Shepard nodded, smiling faintly. "But he's our dog."

"Damn right." Work hard, play harder, but when drop time came, he'd be right there with them, locked and loaded.

Erin glanced toward the redhead, gave her a slight nod and that enigmatic smile of hers. The faintest smug gleam in the green eyes as they slid back to Talia, and Shepard turned and sauntered back toward where she'd left her drink. Tall, blonde and mysterious: worked like a charm on men and women both, and Talia wouldn't have been surprised if the not-so-distressed damsel had fallen for it, but when she turned, the blue eyes were looking straight at her.

"Thank you," the redhead said, her voice and smile warm. "That was an … unpleasant situation."

Talia shrugged. "Not sure why you didn't just kick him in the nuts," she replied. "He was wide open." She wasn't sure why the redhead had picked the human krogan for a dance partner in the first place, but that was none of her business. Not that she gave a damn, anyway.

"In my experience, I've found that … less evolved males are not as affected by that as much," the redhead replied. "It tends to just anger them. Besides," she hesitated, weighing her words again, "I was fairly sure you would be coming to my rescue."

Talia felt her jaw clench. "Lady, I don't give a damn how much of my service jacket you've read, you don't know me," she said tightly, not sure if she was more annoyed with the redhead or herself.

"No," the other woman agreed, "but I would very much like to. Now that I find myself in your debt, perhaps you'll let me buy you that drink?" The lilting accent was smooth as honey and playing hell with the translator chip embedded in Talia's mastoid bone, but the language was definitely the common Earth tongue.

"I've -" _got one_ , Talia was going to say, but when she glanced toward where she'd left her mug, she found it in Shepard's hand, lifted in a mocking toast before being chugged at a rate that was a crime against good beer.

 _Fuck you,_ she mouthed to Erin, careful to enunciate, before turning back to the redhead. _What the hell._ "Why not?" she said with a shrug. A free drink was a free drink, right?

"Good." The redhead smiled at her again. "I am Leliana."

"Talia," the marine replied, adding with a quirked eyebrow, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes," the redhead - Leliana - replied, slipping her arm through Talia's, "but I'm very glad to be able to hear it from you."

 _ **2185 CE, Normandy SR-2 in orbit over Hagalaz**_

"Put her down here." Doc Chakwas was all business, her eyes on the figure that Talia carried as she pointed to the nearest of the beds in the medical bay.

Talia complied as best she could, placing Leliana on the bed and reaching up to unwrap the arms from around her neck, trying not to notice how thin they were. The other woman resisted, shaking her head. "No," she murmured weakly, fear and fever making the blue eyes bright.

"It's all right," Talia told her in a low voice. She really didn't want to give the doc ringside seats to this little sideshow. "You're safe here, Leli." The diminutive slipped out all too easily, considering it'd been six years since she'd last used it, and she bit her lip, trying to corral a whole host of emotions that she didn't want to be dealing with right now. "You're safe." One of the most advanced ships in the galaxy, complete with a full crew of badasses. Not many places safer ... at least, until they made the jump through the relay that no ship had ever returned from, but Leliana wouldn't be around for that.

The other woman gave no indication that she'd heard. "No," she repeated, fingers seeking purchase on Talia's armor and failing. "I need to tell you ... need to tell -"

"No," Talia shook her head, disengaging gingerly and stepping out of reach. "You don't need to tell me anything." That wasn't why she'd volunteered for this mission, damn it. "We're square now."

No response; she looked to have lost consciousness. Chakwas stepped past Talia to the bedside, giving no indication that she'd noticed the exchange. Her fingers moved swiftly over the interface of the diagnostic unit, eyes scanning the readouts.

"Dear God," she muttered, lips pressed into a grim line. "Tell me that whoever did this is dead."

"Full on dead," Talia confirmed, the flutter of unease an unwelcome presence in her gut. The doc was hard to shake up. "How bad is it?"

"She's septic as hell," Chakwas replied, brushing by Talia and diving into the supply cabinet, emerging with arms laden with bags of fluids, vials and transdermal injectors. "Severe malnutrition with metabolic acidiosis, her kidneys are on the verge of shutting down, more fractures in various stages of healing than I have time to count, and some maniac has evidently been using her to practice scrimshaw." She pushed a ragged sleeve up to give an injection, and Talia drew a sharp breath at the network of scars crisscrossing the pale skin, not all of them healed. She hadn't let herself look on the way up. "Her neuromuscular system shows signs of repeated electrical trauma -"

"Is she gonna make it?" Talia interrupted the physician. She got it: it was bad, but Dr. Chakwas was the best there was, and the new Normandy's medbay went beyond state-of-the-art. That had to be enough, right?

"She has a chance," Chakwas replied tersely, eyes focused on her task as she set up a fluid infusion, added shit from the vials to the bags, gave more injections, consulted the readouts again. "If you'd gotten there much later, that wouldn't have been the case." She glanced quickly at the marine. "Have a seat over there, and I'll take care of those ribs after I get her stabilized."

As observant as ever, but Talia shook her head, starting for the door. "They'll keep."

"Talia."

She stopped, looked back to meet Karin's calm gaze. "Seriously? I've gotten worse than this on shore leave." Fifteen years ago, those eyes had been the first thing Talia had seen when she had clawed her way back to consciousness on board the SSV Shasta, orbiting high over Mindoir. The physician had kept tabs on her over the years, though they'd never served together until Shep had tapped her and Alistair after being given command of the first Normandy. The doc had kept them all patched up during the hunt for Saren; she likely knew better than anyone except Erin or Al what Talia's limits were. "They'll keep," she repeated calmly. "Just … take care of the package, all right?" That's all the redhead was: a package, a mission, and Talia's part in this mission was done. "I need to go write up the after-action."

Chakwas' lips thinned in disapproval at the term, but she nodded and turned back to Leliana. "Lieutenant-Commander?"

She stopped again, one foot out the door. "Yeah?"

"There is to be no sparring with Jack or Grunt until I've cleared you."

She'd been busted down in rank for insubordination only slightly less often that she was promoted for performance, but there was some authority that she didn't buck. "Yes, ma'am," she said obediently, continuing out into the corridor and hanging a right toward the mess hall.

Officially, Shepard was dead and Talia and Alistair were AWOL; unofficially, the Alliance and the Citadel Council were hedging their bets, reinstating Shepard's status as a Spectre, letting her bring the two N7's on board the new Normandy, hoping like hell the Wolfpack, aided by the Cerberus vessel and its crew, could figure out who was behind the disappearances.

After burying the warnings about the Reapers under layers of bullshit, whitewashing the attack on the Citadel into a geth uprising and labeling the ones who had stopped Saren and his buddy Sovereign as crackpots, the Alliance brass found themselves up shit creek when whole human colonies started vanishing without a trace. The fact that they were relying on a Cerberus ship and crew to save their bacon had to be chapping some asses, but they still wanted their updates, and Talia had drawn that shit detail because Alistair couldn't type worth a damn.

Didn't mean that she told them everything, mind you, and she damn sure didn't prioritize them over chow, particularly when her nose told her that Gardner was doing Diner Night. One double cheeseburger with the works and a pile of fries later, Talia dropped into a chair, ready for a grease overdose. A shadow fell over the table, and Alistair claimed the chair across from her.

"Well?" he challenged her.

He wasn't alone. Seeing the biggest damn horndog in Alliance space with just one woman was weird enough, but that woman being Miranda Lawson only added to the Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot factor. Even weirder: Talia was positive they hadn't sealed the deal yet.

"Is Shepard all right?" the Cerberus operative asked, settling into the chair beside Alistair. Talia gave her a flat stare, waiting for the stupidity of the question to sink in, before turning to Alistair. His attachment to Miranda _might_ buy her a reprieve from the purge of Cerberus that Talia fully intended to implement once their mission was over, but that didn't mean that she had to pretend to like her.

"Shadow Broker's dead," she informed him, taking a bite of her burger.

"And?"

She chewed, swallowed. "And … Shepard is probably banging the new Shadow Broker as we speak."

"Liara?" Miranda didn't look surprised. "That could be useful to us."

Potentially true, but evidently not what Alistair was interested in. "And?"

As usual, he was as subtle as a kick to the groin, but he had yet to win this game with her. "And … Gardner makes a kickass bacon cheeseburger," she told him, taking another bite to prove her point.

"Had one earlier," he replied, visibly weighing whether or not to keep trying the oblique approach before giving up. "What about Leliana?"

Chew, swallow, shrug. "We got her," Talia replied matter-of-factly. "She's in pretty bad shape; Doc's working on her now." She snagged a couple of fries, dragged them through ketchup, popped them into her mouth with deliberate disinterest.

Hazel eyes regarded her closely, but it was Miranda who spoke, clearly trying to be comforting … something that she sucked at. "Dr. Chakwas is extremely skilled, Talia. I am certain that your … your friend will be all right."

"She's not my friend," Talia shot back, glaring at Alistair, who had evidently sung like a damned canary. "Or anything else. We had a mission, we did it, end of story."

"C'mon, Tal," Alistair protested. "She helped Liara get Erin back -"

"Well, damn, I'd _completely_ forgotten about that!" Talia exclaimed sarcastically. "But you know what? She saved Shep, we saved her. She didn't fucking do it for me, and I _damn_ sure didn't do anything for her." Appetite gone, she shoved the tray toward Alistair and stood. "Do me a favor and screw him before his brain turns completely to mush," she growled at Miranda before stalking out of the mess hall, frustrated rage throbbing behind her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note – And still being held prisoner by this plot bunny, though I think I'm finally getting a grasp on my approach to the Landsmeet chapter._

 _Thanks as always to those of you who have read, faved & followed, with special thanks and shout-outs to: Drummerchick7, Madcat Capers, FloridaMagpie, Soirreb, ValeriNeria, E153N, wyles77, Viedyn & the eternally anonymous Guest!_

* * *

 _ **2179 CE, Arcturus Station, Finnegan's Pub**_

"Hello, there!"

"Hi." The greeting was nonchalant, but Leliana had seen Talia scanning the crowd as she made her way through the tavern toward the bar. She was out of uniform tonight, but her bearing marked her as military as clearly as any insignia, and eyes turned to follow her: the black, fitted t-shirt and cargo pants put the lithely muscled body on good display, she moved with a predator's grace, her confidence just shy of cocky. The eyepatch gave her a rakish appearance, and even the cybernetic arm fit her frame, the metal gleaming faintly in the club lights. She didn't try to hide it, or the scars; long, dark hair that could have been swept forward to conceal cheek and neck was instead held back in a neat braid, the old acid burns on defiant display in a world where medical technology could have erased them with almost no trace.

"It's good to see you again," she told the soldier warmly. "I had begun to wonder if I would."

"Been on assignment," Talia replied with a shrug, adding, "Classified," before Leliana could reply. No hint of braggadocio in the word; simply stating a fact.

"N7 assignments generally are," Leliana replied. "Care to join me if I promise not to ask questions about it?" She allowed a hint of a teasing lilt into her voice. By the time they had parted company a month ago, the bristling suspicion had given way to a wary curiosity. She'd withheld questions then, too, talking about herself, instead: people she'd interviewed, stories she'd written. Her interest in her subjects was genuine; it was one of the things that made her a successful journalist, and she could spin a captivating tale with her voice, as well as by the written word. Building trust took time, but it was another area where she excelled.

It was one of the things that made her a successful spy.

Talia considered the offer briefly, then took one of the available chairs, sitting with her back to the wall, her gaze briefly sweeping the room before coming back to rest on her tablemate. There was a tension in her that had not been present at their first meeting; the reason was not hard to deduce.

"Your friends: Erin and Alistair. They are all right, I hope?"

"They're fine," Talia said, a little too quickly, a little too firmly. Trying to convince herself. "Different details, that's all. They should be here in a few days."

"You're worried about them."

A flicker of annoyance in the brown eye. "I thought you said you wouldn't ask questions?"

"That wasn't a question." She kept her voice gentle, her gaze frank, and after a moment, Talia looked away.

"They're big kids. They can watch their own asses."

"You've gotten used to looking out for each other." Still not a question. She'd spoken with enough soldiers over the years to know the bonds that the heat of battle forged. "You seem to have survived your own assignment none the worse for wear."

Talia nodded, then shrugged. "Not like I was alone. I was with other N7's, and they were good; it's just ..." She trailed off, shrugged again.

"It's just that Erin and Alistair are better," Leliana finished for her.

" _We're_ better," Talia corrected her. "They teach you to work together in training, work with different people … hell, different species, but there's always some you work better with than others. I'd just rather have them watching my six; that's all."

And be watching theirs in turn. The young woman had suffered loss upon loss in her life: her family on Mindoir, her unit on Akuze. The portions of her service record that Leliana had managed to access detailed an officer who was cautious with the lives of those under her command, but reckless when it came to her own safety, with half a dozen citations for bravery and almost as many reprimands for insubordination. It also noted that she had formed no close friendships since Akuze, holding herself aloof from squadmates until she had entered the ICT program.

N-series training records were classified, so Leliana had no idea what the catalyst for the friendship between the oddly matched trio had been, but she'd seen it for herself, watching as they'd walked in together that first night. Shepard had been in the lead, projecting an aura of cool confidence that had drawn plenty of interested gazes. Alistair had been next; outwardly, seemingly totally focused on female companionship, drinking and dancing, but his hazel eyes seemed to miss little. Talia had hung back just slightly, wary gaze on the lookout for trouble, joining the other two when none had materialized. They'd kept company throughout the evening, separating to dance and chat with one partner or another, then regrouping for a drink. Even apart, each one had plainly maintained a peripheral awareness of where the other two were. It had taken less than a minute for both Alistair and Erin to back Talia up, and Leliana had little doubt that the response time would have been much faster had violence seemed truly imminent.

"You are fortunate to have friends that you trust that much," she told the marine.

"Yeah," Talia said simply, glancing away again. "Black and tan," she ordered as the waitress approached, adding, "I got it," to Leliana before she could offer, waiting until the girl had moved away before speaking again. "I found some of your stories on the extranet," she said, tapping the cybernetic left arm with the fingers of her right hand. The omni-tool that most wore in a glove or on the wrist had been built into the circuitry of the prosthetic. "Read 'em during down time."

"Did you like them?" Leliana wanted to know. She'd rather hoped that Talia would look up her writings; it would lay the groundwork for her next steps.

"Some of them," Talia replied obliquely, the faintest gleam of amusement in the brown eye making it clear that the comment was deliberately chosen. "I liked the piece on Shanxi." Yes, she'd thought that Talia would approve of that one. "Most people blame General Williams for surrendering to the turians."

"He had no choice," Leliana replied. "The turians had cut off supplies. Civilians were starving, soldiers were running out of ammunition, and the turians were pulverizing the colony from orbit. He kept up the fight long enough to get most of the survivors into the outlying areas before surrendering. They provided valuable ground support when the Second Fleet was fighting to reclaim the colony. I've spoken to many veterans of the First Contact War, and those who served under General Williams consider him a hero."

"And the brass screwed him over to cover their own asses." Talia made a sound of disgust, picking up the mug that was set before her and taking a drink. "I doubt you made any friends in high places with that story."

Leliana shrugged. "The official account has been told often enough; I thought that people might be interested in another perspective." It had also won her no small amount of admiration from the military rank and file, and it was there that she most often found useful bits of information.

The stock in trade of an information broker was rarely found in earth-shattering secrets. An overheard comment, an admission made off the record, a secret divulged in the languorous minutes after passion; individually, they might not mean much, but taken together, combined with a bit of skilled hacking, and a picture emerged that was worth something to someone. That was where her true talent lay: assembling her information from so many disparate sources that none of them suspected their roles in divulging that information.

Certainly, none of them suspected that she was anything but a journalist with a keen interest in the stories of the soldiers in the trenches and aboard the ships that dared the furthest edges of the galactic frontier. They spoke with her freely, accepted the drinks she bought, sometimes shared her bed; they trusted her, and she repaid that trust by never publishing anything spoken off the record, maintaining the anonymity of confidential informants, giving credit to those who wanted it. Not one of her sources had ever even been suspected of leaking classified information, much less punished.

And if the Shadow Broker paid her well for the secrets she assembled, that was only part of the draw, and not even the largest part. Her writing paid quite well, after all. The real lure was the satisfaction of a puzzle assembled, the challenge of secrets gathered and passed along with none the wiser. It was a game like no other, and she was one of the most skilled players in that game.

The look that Talia gave her was almost pitying. "People don't want to know about the losses, the failures," she said, her tone matter of fact. "All they want to hear is that it won't happen again. Give them a scapegoat and a report that points the finger where they think it ought to go, and they're ready to put it all to bed. Bury the dead, patch up the survivors and forget it ever happened." There was no bitterness in her tone, but the world-weary cynicism that touched her features made her look far older than twenty-three. Barely a quarter into her lifespan, she'd lived – and lost – more than many several times her age.

"That is why you have never had your scars removed, isn't it?" Leliana guessed. "So you wouldn't forget?" She knew that she was pushing the limits again, wasn't surprised by Talia's scowl.

"No questions," the marine reminded her, but she didn't get up, didn't leave. She took another drink of her beer, her gaze shifting to the crowd again.

"I don't believe that, anyway," Leliana told her. "People want to know about heroes: individuals who have overcome daunting odds, achieved worthy deeds. It gives them hope that they can do the same. People need hope."

The brown eye returned to her, mildly incredulous. "Is that what you think I am? A hero?" She snorted, shook her head scornfully. "You're looking in the wrong place," she muttered. "The only heroes I know are dead."

Her family on Mindoir. Her squadmates on Akuze. Mentioning them would likely bring this conversation to an end. "I've never spoken to a hero who claimed to be one," she observed gently. "You have survived two terrible experiences, but you have chosen a career that requires you to put yourself in harm's way to protect others." She cocked her head. "That seems heroic to me."

"Or maybe I just like getting paid to kill batarians," Talia suggested dismissively.

"One could hardly blame you," she agreed. The atrocities committed by batarian pirates in the attack on Mindoir and numerous other colonies had been extensively documented, and Talia had witnessed them – endured them – firsthand.

"Why writing?" Talia asked before she could suggest that the marine might have other motivations for her choice of occupation. "Most people just watch vids. You're decent enough to look at; seems like you'd do well doing that."

"Decent enough to look at?" Leliana teased her. "Lieutenant, I believe that is the first time I've received that particular compliment."

A hint of a smile, there and gone. "I'll bet," Talia replied simply. Their eyes met, held, and Leliana felt the pleasant jolt of frisson. She never pursued a subject that she did not find interesting, but physical attraction, while welcome and generally helpful to her ends, was not always involved.

"To answer your question, I consider video to be a lazy medium of communication," she told the soldier. "The producer shows the viewer what they want them to see, tells them what they want them to know. When you write, you paint a picture with words, but the picture that each reader sees is slightly different, viewed through their imagination. It requires more on the part of writer and reader both. Despite the visual and audio component of vids, I feel that writing is a more intimate connection." With someone else, she might have given subtle emphasis to 'intimate', but this no-nonsense soldier would have no use for such innuendo. "You read them, did you not?"

Talia considered her words, nodded. "Fair enough."

The kinetic pulse of the music shifted to a slow, sensual rhythm, and the energetic movements on the dance floor coalesced into close-swaying couples. "Care to dance?" she invited her companion.

Talia cocked her head and crossed her arms over her chest, that faint smile back. "Not sure I could keep up with you." Reminding her of her dance that first night. She'd been trying to draw the soldier's eye, true, but her primary aim had been to provoke precisely the response in her dance partner that she had achieved, leading to precisely the response she'd been hoping for in Talia.

"I'm sure you could," she replied, meeting Talia's gaze again. The attraction between them had been palpable that night, and while Talia was not so prolific as Alistair, she had no shortage of casual trysts in her past, though there had been no indication of any serious romantic involvements. Leliana had kept the flirting light, but she'd been surprised that Talia did not even try for a kiss when they parted at the evening's end … until she'd seen the gleam of amusement in the brown eye just before the marine turned to go. She'd known that Leliana had been expecting her to make some sort of advance. Known and sidestepped it as adroitly as dodging a bullet.

Two could play that game, and a bit of challenge always made the chase more interesting. "This tempo seems safe enough," she said, coming to her feet and holding out one hand, letting a bit of playful challenge color her voice as she added, "unless you're afraid of little old me?"

"Yeah, right," Talia snorted, but she still looked amused … and interested. After a moment, she stood, taking Leliana's outstretched hand with her left one and allowing herself to be led toward the dance floor. The prosthetic hand was warm to the touch, though not unduly so, the feel of it different than flesh and bone, but still familiar.

On the dance floor, she turned and stepped closer to the taller woman, slipping her arms up and around her neck. The hands that settled at her waist were strong and sure, placed well within the bounds of propriety … unlike the hands of more than a few of the other couples. She opted to stay low-key, guiding her partner into a slow dance: intimate without being seductive.

Talia looked down at her thoughtfully. Up close, the scars left by the thresher maw attack were clearer, the old burns pale and shiny against the dusky skin, but like the cybernetic arm and the eyepatch, they fit her in an odd way, setting off the features of the unscarred right side of her face.

"You really do have a thing for scars, don't you?" the warrior asked her, seeming undecided whether to be amused or annoyed by the possibility.

"I have a 'thing' for interesting people," she asserted with a smile.

"Guess they make for better stories, don't they?"

"They do." No point in denying it. "But I meant what I said before: I will publish nothing without your permission. I believe that your story would be worth telling, but only if you want it to be." She cocked her head. "You said you'd read my work; did you find any mention of me breaking trust with one of my sources?"

"No." They danced in a silence that was not quite comfortable for several moments before Talia spoke again. "I never forget how I got them. Any of them. It's the rest of the damn galaxy that wants to forget. Give me reconstructive surgery and a shiny new eye along with my medal, then they don't have to look at me and remember that they fucked up and got people killed." She shook her head, her expression harsh. "I don't let them." The anger faded to something closer to melancholy. "Like I said, the only heroes I know are dead."

"Perhaps." Leliana knew not to argue that particular subject too strenuously. "But the fact that you want them to be remembered is no small thing."

"It's not a big thing, either," Talia countered with a shrug. Another silence, broken by, "You'd tell people what happened? What really happened?"

"I would use your own recollections, along with my own research," Leliana told her. "It may be that I uncover information that will shed a new light on those events for you. Things you did not know." Treading cautiously. "In my experience, no one person knows the whole of any event. Each individual provides a facet, a piece of the puzzle."

A glimmer of wary hostility in the brown eye, the faintest stiffening of the body that swayed with hers. "And if everyone else is dead?" Talia challenged her.

"Your perspective would be the primary focus," Leliana assured her, "but I have resources that I can tap into: resources outside of official channels, that might provide their own perspectives, apart from the official accounts." It was powerful bait, she knew; even more than she might want the stories of Mindoir and Akuze told, Talia Cousland wanted to know what had happened to the people she cared about, what had happened to her. Not the official reports, redacted, sanitized and spun in the direction that the powers-that-be wanted them sent. The truth. And Leliana was confident that she could find the truth … or at least, parts of it that Talia didn't know.

Hunger flickered across the soldier's features … but doubt, as well. "I dunno," she muttered.

"You don't have to make a decision this instant," Leliana told her. "For now, we can just enjoy each other's company." She offered a winsome smile, letting her fingers toy with the fine hair at the nape of Talia's neck. "I'm not such bad company, am I?"

The hostility faded, replaced by amusement … and a different kind of hunger. "Not too bad," Talia agreed, smiling back at her.

* * *

 _ **2185 CE, Normandy SR-2 in orbit over Hagalaz**_

"How do you feel?" Dr. Chakwas asked as she shone a light in first one eye, then the other.

"Weak," Leliana replied, "but much better than I did two days ago. Thank you."

"I'm glad that I was able to do some good," the physician remarked, waving her omni-tool on a slow pass from head to foot, consulting the readout. "The infection is clearing up nicely, but I want to continue the antibiotics for another three days, at least, and I'd like to check you daily until then."

She managed a laugh. "Well, fortunately, I don't believe that I have any pressing engagements elsewhere." After two years, was there anything left of her old life? Her flat on Omega? Her files? Her contacts?

The doctor chuckled, but the green eyes were sympathetic. "Commander Shepard is keeping us here for a few more days, but after that, I'm sure we can take you where you need to go. The Citadel, perhaps?"

"I … don't know." She'd long ago let go of the idea that she would ever be free again. Survival had been her only day-to-day goal, sheer stubbornness the only thing keeping her clinging to life, even knowing that the next day would bring only more pain. "I -"

"It's all right." Chakwas' voice was calm, measured. The voice of a healer. "You don't have to decide right now. You're safe here."

Safe. It had been a desperate hope in those first terrified days, fading over endless weeks to a barely-remembered dream, then a cruel memory. All those years when she had kept herself safe through her skill and wits, torn away in the aftermath of a split-second decision that was intended to be her redemption. And now?

She simply nodded. "I know," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"Do you think you're up to visitors?" The swell of hope at the doctor's question quickly subsided, but the pair who walked into the medical bay were still a welcome sight.

"Hey." She offered Erin Shepard and Liara a wan smile, accepted a fierce hug from the asari.

"Feeling better?" Shepard asked. The Spectre had changed greatly from the newly-minted N7 on Arcturus Station, and she was miles away from the charred and broken corpse from Alingon. "You're definitely looking better."

"As are you," she told Erin. "I do feel much better," she added. "Dr. Chakwas is very skilled. Thank you."

Commander Shepard shook her head. "No. Thank you. Liara told me what you did." An awkward pause. "I saw what it cost you."

"It was the right thing to do," Leliana replied simply. "I couldn't let him sell you to the Collectors. I'm just glad that Cerberus' plan worked. It scarcely seemed possible at the time." She glanced toward Liara. "I didn't even know if you had survived. Sometimes he would tell me that you were dead, other times that you had traded me to him for Erin's body."

"Oh, Leli, no ..." Liara shook her head, tears standing in blue eyes. "I would never have -"

"I knew that," Leliana told her. "And I think I knew that if you were really dead, he would have shown me your body. It was just … hard to think, sometimes." She bit her lip as memory tried to press in: pain and terror and a yawning chasm of hopelessness. Dimly, she could feel her nails digging into the palms of her hands. "I couldn't think … couldn't -"

"It's all right." Liara's arms around her, a gentleness she hadn't felt in … two years? Longer? "Leliana, it's all right. You're safe now. The bastard can't hurt you any more."

"He's dead?" She could feel the damp of tears on her skin, but they were Liara's. She couldn't remember the last time she had been able to cry. "Tell me he's dead." She had seen the lifeless body of the Shadow Broker … hadn't she? "Please?"

"He's dead." It was Shepard who spoke, stepping closer and crouching down, green eyes steely as they peered up into hers. "Dead and gone, and I can promise you that Cerberus has no interest in bringing him back."

She managed a nod, forcing herself to focus on her breathing: deep and slow. "I remember," she said, to herself as much as them. "I remember."

"Good." Erin straightened. "We'll be staying here a few more days, help Liara repair the damage." The look that passed between Shepard and the asari brought a bittersweet ache to Leliana's chest. Liara's devotion to the Spectre had been profound; Erin Shepard might have been brought back to life by Cerberus, but it had only been possible because Liara had refused to accept the finality of her lover's death. "After, we can take you wherever you need to go."

"Or you could … stay here. With me." Liara's suggestion was hesitant, almost apologetic, but the blue eyes held understanding. There was nothing for Leliana to go back to. "I could use your help."

She met the asari's gaze, considering. Being on that ship again, even free … she could feel her throat trying to narrow, pushed it away. "You're sure that you want to become the new Shadow Broker?" The memories were no more than disjointed flashes: that voice over the intercom, the gun in her hand, Talia's face, Liara in front of the communications console … "Why?"

"Because as much evil as that creature did with the resources on that ship, I – we – have the opportunity to do good," Liara told her earnestly. "The Reapers are coming, and no one wants to believe it, the Collectors are a part of it, but we don't know why or how. We have to find out, but we're running out of time."

 _The opportunity to do good._ The same thing that had pushed her, two years ago, to betray the Shadow Broker, to give Liara the chance to escape at cost of her own freedom. The chance to atone for the wrongs she had done, the people she had harmed playing her game. She closed her eyes, drew a steadying breath.

"I don't know," she managed. "I – I want to help, but I don't know if I can -" She needed time before she again faced the tiny cell where she had spent weeks without seeing or speaking to another soul; the narrow, shadowed corridors where she'd been dragged when she refused to walk; the room with the chair where she -

"That's all right." Erin's voice, calm and reassuring, nothing at all like the legends of "The Butcher of Torfan". "You can stay on the Normandy for now. Be easier for Doc to keep an eye on you, anyway. You can decide when we leave." She opened her eyes, gave the Spectre a grateful nod. Shepard glanced to Dr. Chakwas. "We have any empty bunk space?"

The physician pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Let me see what I can do," she said, turning and moving to her desk.

"We're not exactly set up for passengers," Erin explained wryly. "We've been stashing crew in nooks and crannies as we recruit them."

"No one should have to give up a bed for me," Leliana protested. "I can sleep here in the medical bay."

Shepard shook her head. "The beds aren't that comfortable." She offered a crooked grin. "I should know; I've spent enough time on them. It won't hurt someone to double up for a couple of days." She cocked her head, considering. "Okay, maybe not Jack."

The name meant nothing to Leliana, but Liara laughed softly. "No, I don't think that would be fair to do to anyone."

Dr. Chakwas rejoined them. "I've arranged for the use of the port observation deck," she reported.

Erin shot her an incredulous look. "How the hell did you pull that off?"

The physician shrugged. "I asked."

Looking between them, Leliana felt a twinge of apprehension. "Talia?" she guessed.

Chakwas nodded. "The Lieutenant-Commander said she would find other sleeping accommodations."

Leliana stared at her in bafflement. "Why would she do that? She wants nothing to do with me; she hasn't been in the medical bay since she left me here." Even Alistair had been by briefly, making a few minutes of awkward conversation while casting nervous glances toward the door, plainly worried about Talia catching him there.

The doctor laughed softly. "Not when you're awake, my dear, but E.D.I., our ship's VI, monitors your vitals and keeps her apprised. She's been popping in for an update nearly every time you've been asleep."

* * *

 _A.N. - Looking at the canon ME timeline, it's become apparent that I'm off a bit. The thresher maw attack on Akuze still took place in 2177 CE, but the events at Elysium & Torfan won't take place until 2180 & 2181, respectively, a few years after game canon._

 _Going to start working more of the ME squad in starting in the next chapter, & start to flesh out the Alistair/Miranda dynamic._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: All right, likely the last entry of 2015 for me. Thanks as always to those who have read/faved/followed, with shout outs to: Madcat Capers, Drummerchick 7, Viedyn, Soirreb, What Ithacas Mean, wyles77, & the still anonymous Guest!_

 _Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!_

* * *

 **2179 CE, Arcturus Station, Finnegan's Pub**

"There they are."

Talia let her hand drop to the small of Leliana's back, guiding her around the edge of the dance floor toward the table in the back. The redhead walked beside her, just close enough to feel the heat where hip brushed against thigh, awareness dancing along the marine's nerve endings, simmering in her blood. The faint smile on the full lips made it clear that Leliana knew damn good and well the effect she was having; the even fainter flush of her cheeks, almost lost in the play of light and shadow in the club, made it equally clear that she felt it, too.

Soon, Talia promised herself, not for the first time. Or the second.

"T.C., Leli," Erin greeted them as they claimed the two empty chairs at the table.

"Shep," Talia replied in turn, feeling Leliana shift ever so slightly until their thighs were touching beneath the table. "Al ..." She trailed off expectantly.

"This is Erica," he filled in helpfully, smiling at the busty blonde at his side. "Erica, this is Talia and Leliana."

"With a 'k'," Erica – _Erika_ – clarified in a breathy, little-girl voice that had Talia digging her nails into her leg. He was her buddy and she loved him, but his penchant for women with IQ's that were roughly equal to their bra sizes drove her apeshit sometimes. Most of the time. All the fucking time, all right?

"Pleased to meet you," she lied politely.

"Are you _all_ N7?" Erika asked, baby blues wide, and Talia shaved another ten IQ points off of her estimate.

"I'm not." Leliana gave her a warm smile, her hand finding Talia's and coaxing it into releasing its deathgrip on the quadriceps muscle, then lacing their fingers together. Immediately, Talia felt her blood pressure start to drop. "I'm a journalist."

"A reporter," Talia clarified, seeing Erika's brow furrow in confusion. "A writer." She couldn't think of anything less than two syllables.

"Oh. That's nice," Erika said, not bothering to feign interest before adding brightly, "I'm a dancer! At Eclipse." A dive in the clubbing quarter that was famous for never hiring anyone with less than a D-cup. Fuck, this was going to be a long night.

"That is so fascinating!" Leliana beamed at her with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm. She gave Talia's hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and standing. "I'd love to hear all about it while we're ordering drinks." She glanced from Talia to Erin to Alistair. "Black and tan, double-malt scotch on the rocks, tequila with salt and lime?"

"Perfect," Shepard told her.

"What's a black and tan?" Erika chirped, bouncing to her feet to follow.

Fortunately, between the music and the chatter from the surrounding tables, it didn't take them long to move out of earshot.

"Fucking _Eclipse_?" Talia demanded, glaring at Alistair.

"What? I just dropped in for a drink," he replied defensively.

"You got screwed, then," Erin informed him. Rumor had it that when the water had been cut off for nonpayment, the bartender had watered down the drinks by pissing in them, and no one had noticed.

"Yes, I did." His beatific smile was ear to ear. "Several times, in fact."

"Spare us the details," Talia said, holding up a restraining hand. The good news was, his bimbos never lasted more than a week or two; the bad news was, they were all pretty much interchangeable. "Where's Casey?" This was directed to Shepard, who shrugged.

"Didn't work out," she said simply, not looking particularly devastated by the admission. She didn't go for bimbos – or himbos – but her relationships rarely outlived Alistair's. Not too many men or women were interested in playing second fiddle to a military career.

"Damn. Sorry." Alistair looked genuinely sympathetic, but then he brightened. "But Erika's got a friend -"

"Dude, some of us have standards," Talia reminded him before he got into measurements.

He looked injured. "I have standards."

She regarded him skeptically. "Tits and a pulse?"

He grinned, unrepentant. "They're standards." The grin turned to a leer. "And some of us like details." He leaned forward, regarding her expectantly. "So … spill."

"Nothing to spill," Talia told him with a shrug, but he eyed her suspiciously.

"You mean you haven't ..." He trailed off, hands gesturing vaguely.

"Nope." Talia was trying hard to be casual, but he wasn't buying it.

"In _three months_?" He stared at her in disbelief. "What have you been _doing_?"

"We talk."

"Talk?" He frowned, turning the word over as though it were in another language.

"Yes, talk," she shot back, glaring at him in exasperation. "It's an activity engaged in by higher primates who have more than two brain cells to rub together. Try it sometime."

"I talk to you guys," he replied defensively.

"Probably the only reason you haven't forgotten how," Talia retorted.

Erin had been silent, green eyes studying Talia. She spoke up now. "Shit, T.C., you've got it bad, don't you?"

"Got what?" Alistair asked, then his eyes widened. "No way! Seriously?"

"No!" Talia snapped. Shepard just watched her. "Maybe," she muttered, looking away. At the bar, Erika was chattering animatedly at Leliana, who was listening attentively. Her eyes cut briefly to Talia's; she smiled, and the marine felt the now familiar prickle of warmth across her skin, the answering smile coming easily to her lips. "I dunno," she said at last, shrugging. "It's different with her, that's all."

"But … no sex?" Alistair couldn't seem to wrap his mind around that, and when it came down to it, Talia couldn't blame him. She'd never been one for holding back before, but it had been three months since their first dance. Three months and half a dozen missions: most of them no more than a couple of days, one of them a full two weeks. Three months in which she had seen no one else, felt no urge to see anyone else, but while her down time, when she wasn't with Erin and Al, was spent almost exclusively with Leliana, they had gone no further than heated but carefully controlled kisses.

"It's not that difficult," Shepard told him dryly before turning her eyes back to Talia. "What do you talk about?" There was genuine interest in the question, but her friend didn't try to hide the underlying caution.

"Lots of things," Talia replied with another shrug. "Akuze and Mindoir, missions. Not the classified stuff," she added sharply, seeing their expressions. She wasn't some FNG, for Christ's sake. "Like when we lost Taylor on Mavigon." She hadn't been as close to Jory Taylor as she was to these two, but in small unit actions typical of N7, any death hit close to home. "Or Jackson getting hit on by that hanar." It wasn't all death and destruction, and if the good times didn't bond them quite as tightly as the bad, they were still a hell of a lot easier to take. "She's easy to talk to."

"She's a reporter," Alistair reminded her. " _And_ she wants a story on you."

"I know that," Talia shot back, trying not to sound defensive. "She told me she wouldn't publish anything without my permission, and she hasn't. She thinks we can find out more about what happened on Akuze."

"A-ha!" Alistair leaned forward, expression triumphant. "That's her angle! She's after some exclusive exposé!"

She didn't punch him, but it was a near thing. "You knew she was a reporter when you were throwing me at her!" she snapped irritably. "You didn't have a problem with it then!"

"That was because -" He broke off, eyes darting between her and Shepard warily. "Why no sex?" he blurted, cringing in anticipation.

They weren't about to disappoint. Erin's headslap caught him high right, Talia's low and left. "This is why they recommend neutering," she grumbled to Shepard.

"True," Erin agreed, but her green eyes were serious as she went on. "It _is_ a pretty big change for you, though. You're not exactly the slow and easy type."

"I know, I know," Talia growled. "It's not about slow and easy, though." Her gaze snapped to Alistair, waiting for a wisecrack, but he'd apparently gotten all the stupid out of his system for the moment, and now he just waited, watching her curiously. "It started out like a game, seeing who would cave first. She's hot and she knows it; I figured I'd see how she dealt with someone who didn't try to get her into bed … and then she did the same thing to me. Now -" She broke off, trying to figure out how to articulate the unspoken agreement between her and the redhead. "It's like we're both just letting it build." Just talking about it, thinking about it, was enough to set the heat swirling beneath her skin, pulsing low in her belly. "Like placing shape charges, setting them up for maximum effect."

"That's one hell of a detonation you're building towards," Erin observed, quirking a grin. "I've seen you two dance."

"Yeah." Talia felt her cheeks flushing at the admission, and not entirely from embarrassment. Dancing was the sole outlet for the sexual tension that charged the spaces between them until it felt nearly incandescent. The sight of Leliana on the dance floor, the press of her body, the teasing kisses and touches … it all left Talia's head spinning, pulse hammering, body aching with raw _want_ , and Leli felt it, too. She wasn't imagining the fire in those blue eyes … was she?

"If you're happy, T.C., that's all that matters," Erin told her, looking pointedly at Alistair, who nodded vigorously.

"Just wanted to make sure, that's all," he said earnestly. "I mean, she checked out and all, but -" Realizing what he had just said, he winced and flinched again, this time ahead of a single pop upside the head from Erin.

"You ran a background on her?" Talia asked, more amused than annoyed. She'd likely have done the same for either of them.

"Yeah." Shepard looked rueful. "Look, I'm sorry, T.C., but -"

"Don't be," Talia told her. "I did the same thing before I talked to her the second time. She knows," she added, "and she's clean." Born in the agricultural colony of New Cherbourg, father killed in a terraforming accident when she was a baby, mother died of an aneurysm when she was ten, taken in and raised by the wealthy patron who had funded the colony, educated in some of the best schools on Earth, solid CV as an investigative journalist, including embedded assignments with military units. They'd talked about that, too. Christ, what hadn't they talked about?

Shepard accepted this with a nod. "All good, then. I'm happy for you."

The words, and the smile that accompanied them, were sincere, and Talia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Shit, it's not like we're picking out curtains or anything," she protested. "It's just -"

"Here you go." Her black and tan was set before her, scotch on the rocks to Erin, and then Leliana slid back into her seat, a glass of wine in her hand.

"Have a nice chat?" Alistair asked, smiling indulgently at Erika as she sat down with two shot glasses of tequila, a bowl of lime slices and a salt shaker.

"We did." The smile that Leliana gave him was a shade too bright, and the glance that she exchanged with the blonde was positively wicked, so Talia had a bit of warning before she continued. "Did you know that Erika has a masters degree in xenocultural studies from Harvard?"

"Yes, I – wait … what?" The indulgent smile was exchanged for a poleaxed expression as he looked at his companion. "You – you do?"

She nodded. "Yes." The little-girl voice was gone; her voice was a bit high pitched but full of confidence as she went on. "I'm working on my doctoral thesis now: Sexual Dynamics Of Cross-Species Interactions In An Enclosed Artificial Environment." The syllables rolled off her tongue with nary a stutter, blue eyes shooting Talia a mischief-filled look.

"I'll be damned," Shep marveled, a grin spreading over her face.

Talia didn't bother fighting her own smile. She could admit when she'd been played. "You minor in theater?" she wanted to know. "What's with the act?"

Erika shrugged. "The dancing pays well, leaves me plenty of time free for my research." Her pretty features took on a resigned expression. "And most guys I've met turn and run when they find out I've got a 160 IQ." She gave Alistair a winsome smile. "Leliana assures me that you're more open minded than that, though."

"Me?" His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and the look he gave Leliana was almost pathetically grateful. "Oh, I am! I am!" He sat up straighter, confidence returning, smiling back at Erika. "Absolutely."

* * *

"How did you figure it out?" Talia asked as she followed Leliana onto the dance floor. She had to lean close to be heard over the music, but she didn't mind that in the slightest.

"When you told her I was a reporter, then a writer," Leliana replied, turning her head slightly so that her hair brushed against Talia's cheek, the delicate floral perfume that she favored sweet in the air. "You could see in her eyes, deciding how dumb she should pretend to be."

" _You_ could see it, anyway." Talia had missed it completely, and she felt like almost as big an ass as Alistair (who had admittedly made a nice subsequent recovery and looked well on his way to some intelligent pillow-talk later tonight).

"I figured your attention might be elsewhere," Leliana teased her, stepping away and turning to face Talia as she began to move to the music.

"Not really." Talia joined her. She was a better dancer than Shepard (who wasn't?) though probably not as good as Alistair. Not quite as good as she'd been before Akuze, but the cybernetics designers were damn good at their work, and she was rapidly closing in on the last of the ground she'd lost along with her left leg just above the knee. "Not my type." Apart from the usual 'real or implants?' internal debate that she figured everybody had at first sight, she just wasn't into large breasts. Perfectly proportioned curves were her preference, and she was currently graced with the company of a sterling example in mesmerizing motion. No contest.

"Lucky me." The coy look that Leliana gave her announced that their game was on again, and Talia stepped close, their bodies swaying together, bending to claim a kiss: a teasing brush of lips, the lightest flicker of a tongue against hers, then back out.

"How'd you get her to tell you about it?"

"I listened," the redhead replied with a shrug. "That's all most people really need to be willing to talk."

"You're good at that." Talia knew from experience just how good, how easy it was to share her thoughts with the blue eyes watching her attentively without a hint of judgment, the questions and comments that proved that she'd really been _listening_ , not just sitting there nodding. Part of the reason she'd been content to let their game drag out so long was that she didn't want to lose that. Didn't want their connection to be simply physical. Which, if she thought about it too much, scared the hell out of her, so she made a point of not thinking about it too much.

"I'm a woman of many talents," Leliana agreed, her smile becoming sultry as she turned a slow, undulating circle that put one of those talents on a display that went straight to a certain N7 marine's groin.

Talia stepped in again, wrapping her arms around the slender waist and drawing Leliana back until their bodies were flush. "You're playing with fire," she warned her in a low growl, nipping lightly at the curve of her ear.

"I like the heat," Leliana countered without hesitation, leaning into her and tipping her head back until it rested on the taller woman's shoulder, one hand covering Talia's at her waist, while the other slipped upward, curling behind Talia's neck and pulling her down into a kiss that sent the temperature soaring into the stratosphere.

"You and me both," Talia managed when they came up for air. She didn't give herself time to overthink it. "You ready to turn it up?"

Leliana turned in her embrace, both hands coming together behind Talia's neck, fingers toying with a bit of hair that had escaped her braid. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask, Lieutenant," she breathed, smiling up at her. "Your place or mine?"

"Pretty sure your bed will be more comfortable," Talia told her. The fact that she could fall asleep damn near anywhere was due at least in part to so many years of doing so on Alliance-issue cots.

"What makes you think we'll make it that far?" Leliana's words were teasing, but beneath the mirth, the desire in those blue eyes mirrored the fire in Talia's blood that was rising toward supernova. _Definitely_ time to go.

"Let's get -" The words cut off as cleanly as by the sweep of an omni-blade as a familiar vibration thrummed through her left arm, followed by a high-pitched signal modulated to cut through the music of the rowdiest nightclub. Nor was it the basic report-to-duty tone, but the alternating ululation of a Level 4 recall: the highest priority. Big time shit was hitting the fan somewhere, and for the first time in her military career, Talia Cousland was pissed off at that fact.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Talia jerked upright, glaring around until she found first Shepard, then Alistair in the crowd, each of them likewise looking for her, Erin tapping her own omni-tool as soon as they locked eyes. Almost immediately, frustration was tempered by elation; they didn't always draw the same missions, but this time, the Wolfpack was going on the hunt.

"Duty calls?" Talia turned back to Leliana. The redhead looked more amused by her discomfiture than anything, but there was an underlying seriousness in her eyes, as well. She'd likely heard a Level 4 tone before.

"Yeah," Talia answered shortly, her head already switching gears, pitching libido into the trunk, feeling the first surge of adrenaline hitting her system. "Gotta go." Things to do, assholes to kill. "Sorry." And she was, but if she'd actually been given a choice right now, there was no doubt which way she'd go; it was who she was.

"You'll be careful?" Leliana asked her.

"No worries," Talia responded with an easy grin. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil -"

" - for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley," Shepard finished for her, with a wink and a smile for both Leliana and Erika, who was beside Alistair looking anxious. "I'll bring them both back in one piece, ladies. I promise."

The blonde tugged Al down into a kiss, and a gentle pressure on Talia's arm turned her back to meet the solemn regard of blue eyes.

"Be careful," Leliana repeated softly, stepping close and standing on tiptoe, the kiss gentle, the warmth and worry in her expression enough to forestall another flippant response.

"I'll be careful," she replied, wrapping her arms around the redhead's waist. "Raincheck?"

"I'll be waiting," Leliana promised, drawing her down into a final kiss, deep and slow and filled with a very different kind of promise that – very briefly – pushed all thoughts of killing assholes out of her mind.

Shepard's not-so-subtle throat clearing brought her mind back to business, and she drew back. "Gotta go," she said again, but couldn't resist leaning in to steal a last, quick kiss before turning to follow Shepard.

"Look at it this way," Alistair consoled her, slinging a comradely arm around her shoulders as they worked their way toward the door. "Sex after battle is the best kind."

* * *

 **2185 CE, Normandy SR-2 in orbit over Hagalaz**

"So -" Jack hit the floor, rolled, came up. "You fucked her, then she screwed you." Her right hand shot out, palm forward, hurling a shockwave that rolled across the cargo bay.

Too wide to dodge completely, so Talia dove for the edge and moved with the impact, letting it tumble her back until she was out of the area of effect. "Pretty much sums it up," she grunted, regaining her feet. That was all it had been: fucking. No matter what the dumbass kid she had been had thought at the time.

Biotics, even the strongest ones, had a refractory period after unleashing a mass effect field, and Talia closed with her opponent now. Unlike a lot of biotics, Jack was almost equally adept at mixing it up hand-to-hand, which was why she had quickly become Talia's favorite sparring partner on the ship, with Grunt a close second.

"Then she starts feeling guilty." Jack dodged one punch, grunted as another connected, threw a right cross that Talia ducked. "Decides to help this Liara save Shep, then gets her ass caught by the Shadow Broker." Recovering, she threw Talia back, then pitched another shockwave.

"Right again." This one was narrower, and Talia managed to dive out of its path, then came back for more.

"You guys saved her, killed the Shadow Broker, and the asari is taking over."

"Yup." Further conversation ceased as they both threw themselves into the bout, the only sounds the hiss of breath and the grunts when a fist or foot connected with its target. It undoubtedly looked violent as hell from the outside, but in reality, neither combatant was unleashing even a fraction of their potential. They'd gone no-holds-barred in their very first match, but while they had both emerged from it grinning ear to ear, there had been enough fractures and lacerations that Dr. Chakwas had threatened to have them both kept in stasis between missions if there were a repeat.

Just meant they had to go at it longer to get a good workout, and they'd both worked up a good sweat by the time they called it. Talia had a split lip, and Jack was sporting a black eye, but those were an easy fix with a bit of medigel.

"And now she's crashing in your bunk?" Jack tipped her head back, chugging three packs of the biotic replenishing formula in quick succession. Scientifically formulated with electrolytes, amino acids and vitamins, they tasted like shit, but apparently worked.

Talia nodded and bent to grab her towel, wiping off her hands and face, then draping it around her neck. "Doc Chakwas asked me," she said with a shrug. Even Shepard would have gotten a 'Fuck off' with that request, but Karin didn't lightly use the influence she had with Talia, which meant that the marine generally acceded when she did. It wasn't like she was asking her to sleep in the same room, right?

"Shit." The biotic shook her head in disgust, but said no more. The no-nonsense physician had earned respect, and was behind only Shepard and Talia in the ex-con's regard (though she wouldn't ever put it in anything close to those terms). "She know?"

"Not from me," Talia replied, "but not like it was a secret when it hit the fan." One of the Alliance's best and brightest shacking up with an agent for the Shadow Broker and spilling secrets had gone over like a pregnant pole-vaulter at HQ. Talia had narrowly missed a court-martial and dishonorable discharge, and she'd been on the shit list for nearly a year after, until she'd taken out a nest of batarian slavers single-handed, nearly getting killed in the process. "Alistair might have told her, too. Miranda knows." That still pissed her off.

The rude noise from Jack came right on cue. "He's not hoping to get pussy from the doc," she sneered. "Not that he'd stand a chance if he was." Al hadn't really known what to make of the tattooed, belligerent prisoner they'd taken off of Purgatory … so naturally, he'd made a pass at her. It hadn't gone well, and he'd kept a wary distance after. Between that and the fact that he was not quite sleeping with Miranda, it didn't seem likely that he and Jack were going to be bosom buddies any time soon.

"She probably heard the scuttlebutt when it went down," Talia reasoned. She knew that Alistair, despite appearances, thought about more than getting laid; he hadn't dealt with the batarians in the Skyllian Blitz by shagging them. But she was currently in no mood to play peacemaker.

"So, where you sleeping?" Jack asked, nodding toward the bag that Talia was carrying as they headed for the showers. She'd grabbed a change of clothes and gotten the hell out of her quarters as soon as she'd finished talking to the doc. E.D.I. could handle recon and give her the all-clear for resupply runs.

"That an offer?" Talia joked, making a show of scoping out the other woman's ass as they stripped down. What she could see of it, anyway; the tatts covered most of the real estate.

"Yeah, right," Jack snorted. She didn't swing that way and they both knew it, which was why Talia could get away with the joke and keep her head on her shoulders. "You want the table or the floor?"

"Harsh." Talia ducked under one of the nozzles, lathering up briskly. She might no longer be operating under Alliance regs, but old habits died hard, and long showers were for things that she had no intention of thinking about.

"Don't get me wrong, Cousland," Jack added, looking her up and down appraisingly. "If you were a guy, I'd totally do you."

"Damn, Jack, that was almost sweet," Talia marveled, "and if you were a chick, I'd totally do you."

"Bitch."

"Psycho."

All said with the utmost mutual respect and gruff affection, mind you. Jack got her, in a way that even Erin and Alistair didn't. The biotic knew that sometimes, you had to let the hate loose, dance with it a bit, show the fucker that you weren't afraid, to keep it from burning you up from the inside out. And Talia had hate to burn, from Mindoir onward. Killing batarians and other assholes for pay kept it sated most of the time, but she couldn't shoot her way out of the current situation. The sparring session had taken the edge off, and the familiar bullshit banter smoothed things out even further.

"Seriously, though," Jack said as they were toweling off, "if you need floor space, it's no problem."

The offer was casually made and undoubtedly genuine, but Talia knew it was no small concession from someone who had been violated in pretty much every way possible and who valued their privacy and space.

She shook her head. "Figured I'd just crash in the shuttle," she said with a shrug, making sure that her left arm and leg were thoroughly dry, along with the eyepatch. The prosthetics were waterproof – she'd proved that on multiple occasions – but preventive maintenance was one of the things that saved asses when shit got real. "The bench seat's got plenty of room to stretch out. I can just pretend I'm on a drop, sleep like a baby."

Jack accepted this with a nod. "Then what?" she wanted to know.

Talia knew what she was asking. "Then we either leave her with Liara or drop her off on the Citadel or Omega, I get my bunk back, and we go kick some Collector ass." End of story.

"And then it's Cerberus' turn."

"Damn right." Talia mirrored Jack's feral grin. They both owed that particular organization one hell of a lot of payback, and as soon as their current mission was complete, collections would commence. She figured the Illusive Man knew it, which was why she never worried about speaking her mind on a ship that was likely bugged from stem to stern. There was a perverse pleasure in letting him know exactly what she intended to do to him and his flunkies. Sure, he was likely planning on offing them as soon as the Collectors had been dealt with; she fully expected it, and whoever tried it would be the first installment. For Alistair's sake, she hoped that Miranda had more sense.

"All right, then." Satisfied, Jack pulled on what passed for clothes with her while Talia opted for the loose-fitting shorts and t-shirt that served as pajamas, tossing the towel over one shoulder as they left the showers and headed for the elevator.

"Talia?" Garrus' voice came over the comm unit embedded in her omni-tool. If she ever decided to really go off grid, she was going to have to do something about her Swiss Army Arm, as Alistair had dubbed it, but she'd deal with that when she needed to. There were probably tracking chips planted in every piece of hardware on her body; the Alliance liked to keep track of its investments. Miranda could likely help her find and disable them, but she wasn't anywhere near that desperate yet. "You have a minute? Jacob and I have something in the armory you might be interested in."

Jack's lip had curled into a sneer of contempt at mention of Jacob, so Talia didn't bother asking if she wanted to come along, dropping her off on the Engineering deck before heading up to the command deck. Another plus to being out from under the Alliance chain of command: no one looked twice if one of the officers happened to be out of uniform.

"What've you got?" she asked as she strode into the armory. She still didn't like the setup: sticking it up on the damn command deck instead of down in the hangar where it had been in the SR-1, but there was no denying they had upgraded the hell out of it. Plenty of room to work, and plenty of tools – and weapons – to work with, including toys that even N7 hadn't had access to.

Garrus and Jacob were bent over one of the workbenches; the turian glanced up and waved her over. "Take a look," he invited her. "Found it on the Shadow Broker's ship. Looks like a prototype they were trying to reverse engineer."

Talia studied the find as she approached. The basic lines were familiar enough to someone who made a living with firearms: stock, barrel, scope, bipod, trigger, but the receiver was bulkier than it should have been, the design vaguely familiar.

She blinked. "Is that a rail gun?" she asked, reaching out to touch the rifle, trigger finger itching, already fascinated. Portable versions of the electromagnetic weapons were theoretically possible, but expensive as hell, which meant that the average grunt would never lay eyes on one, much less get to fire it.

"Yup," Jacob confirmed. "With a built in mass effect generator." He tapped the front portion of the frame. "Adjusts the projectile mass either way."

"Jesus," Talia murmured reverently, picking it up. Definitely heavier than the Black Widow, but with the velocity boost of the rail gun, combined with the ability to tweak the payload mass to maximize range or impact, the tradeoff was a no brainer. "You fired it yet?"

Garrus shook his head. "Figured a hole in the hull might make Shepard grumpy. I was planning on testing it on the next planet -"

"You? C'mon." Talia shook her head, lifting the rifle into position, sighting down the scope. "A weapon this fine needs somebody who can _shoot_." She still wasn't quite used to not being the only sniper on Shepard's squad, but she remained supremely confident that she was the best.

"That was exactly what I was thinking." Garrus, of course, had his own opinions on the matter. "I mean, since I found it."

" _After_ I cleared the ship of everything that moved," Talia reminded him. "Including a yahg."

"With help!"

"Not yours!"

"Hey, now." Ever the peacemaker, Jacob stepped in. "How about we settle this like civilized species?"

"As opposed to beating the crap out of each other?" Talia asked, mostly in jest. She actually rather liked the turian; he'd more than proved himself during the hunt for Saren, and anybody who could piss off every major criminal group on Omega enough to unite against him was someone she wanted on her side. But still, if this rifle was what it looked to be … "All right." She laid it back on the bench, held out her right hand, fingers curled into a fist, waiting for Garrus to do the same.

"Ready?" Jacob took on the role of referee. "One … two … three!"

"I win," Talia announced, looking at her closed fist with satisfaction.

"Paper covers rock!" Garrus protested.

"Yes, it does," Talia agreed, "but you had your thumb tucked in, and rock breaks scissors." He'd slid that by a couple of times before she'd realized that he wasn't as clueless about the ritual as he let on.

"Your thumb was tucked in, Garrus," Jacob spoke up.

"Fine," Garrus pouted, "but if we figure out how to reverse engineer it, I get the first one made."

"Fair enough," Talia conceded, scooping up her prize, turning it this way and that, studying the design. "Shit, I wish Tali was here."

"That makes two of us," Garrus agreed wistfully. "We'd have had all the repairs to that ship done by now."

"Kenneth and Gabby are -"

" - not quarians," Talia finished, giving Jacob a pointed side-eye. From what Shepard had said, she was pretty damn sure that the reason that Tali'zorah hadn't joined back up when they'd met her at Freedom's Progress had been because of the presence of Cerberus. Jacob was solid enough in a fight, but he'd plainly been drinking too much of the Illusive Man's kool-aid. He was, however, sane enough to know not to try to argue the merits of the organization with Talia, so he simply nodded silently, conceding the point.

Normally, she'd have taken the rifle back to her quarters to gloat over. That not being an option, she stowed it in her locker beside the trusty Black Widow before heading down to her temporary crash pad. The hangar was deserted, the Kodiak and Hammerhead (a piss-poor replacement for the Mako, in Talia's opinion) sitting silent in their places. She ducked into the shuttle, closing the door behind her. Quiet, private, not much of a view, but it would do well enough for a couple of nights. Tossing her bag into the pillow position, she stretched out on the bench seat with a contented groan. Just a couple more nights, then they'd be leaving their guest wherever she needed to be, and things could go back to normal.

* * *

 _Author's Note - Use of modern phrasing and jargon in fantasy settings is a big immersion breaker when I'm reading & something that I take pains to avoid when I'm writing. It's been kinda fun to just let things flow with this one._

 _And I fixed the gaping hole at the end of the last chapter. Many thanks to Viedyn for pointing it out!_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: Long time, no post. Long story short, life's been crazy, but the good kind of crazy, so not going to complain. Trying to work writing back into my schedule. Got a good chunk of the next chapter of MIT done, but this plot bunny has been the most insistent._**

 ** _And NSFW, by the way._**

 **2179 CE, Arcturus Station, Residential Ward**

Leliana hesitated, her fingers hovering above the holographic keys. Three sentences, sixteen words. She could write them in seconds, send them with a single keystroke:

" _Risk of compromise increasing. Asset no longer viable. Extracting and relocating, requesting data on alternate assets."_

Couched in the impersonal language of an information broker, the words would make little sense to an outsider, but to the recipient, the message would be clear: she had failed. Not a common occurrence, but neither was it unheard of. The intelligence game was one of high risk and high gains … at least, where the real prizes were concerned. Petty secrets were a dime a dozen, easily gleaned from a combination of careful listening and adroit conversation, and they sold for not much more than a dime a dozen. You could still make a decent living, if you sold enough of them, but it was a dull business.

The real secrets took time and skill to uncover, and the chance of failure was correspondingly higher, but so were the payoffs. More importantly to Leliana, the real secrets were where the greatest challenges lay, with the greatest satisfaction if she succeeded. It was this that had initially inspired her proposal to infiltrate the ranks of most secretive of the Alliance military forces: N7. The operatives were notoriously close-mouthed and clannish; the best bet was to identify either a veteran disgruntled with the service or a relative newcomer not yet fully initiated into the culture and gain their trust.

Talia Cousland's dossier had quickly been moved to the top of her list of prospective assets. The young Marine was a rebel, not afraid of defying authority. The twin tragedies in her past might have made her difficult to get close to, but they would also have left her hungry for the answers that the Alliance had been unable – or unwilling – to give her. A challenge, to be sure, but not one that had seemed insurmountable; exactly the type of challenge that Leliana relished, in fact.

She had fully expected her initial advance to be rebuffed, and she hadn't been at all certain that the ruse she had set up on the dance floor would work, though her research suggested that Talia Cousland was the type to aid someone in trouble. She'd guessed correctly there, but her research had also suggested that the Marine would be relatively easy to entice into a sexual liaison, which had not been the case, at all.

Not terribly surprising in and of itself; Leliana had been turned down before (though admittedly not often). What was surprising was not only Talia's continued restraint in the face of a mutual attraction that grew more potent at each meeting, but her own participation in the erotically charged game that they played. Seduction was an art that she had long since mastered, and as the weeks had gone on, it would not have taken much of a push from her to coax the sparks that danced between them into a consuming fire. Instead, she continued to play coy, letting Talia do the same, drawing close enough to feel the heat, feed the fire, then easing away at the brink of combustion, feeling a heady combination of frustration and anticipation that was new to her.

It was the challenge. She'd told herself that, and it was undoubtedly part of the truth … but only part. The rest of it was hard to define, and even harder to acknowledge, because the chemistry between them went beyond sexual attraction, into places that she had always kept carefully guarded. Her targets had fallen in love with her – or with who they thought she was – before; it was nothing that she encouraged, however, and she had become adept at disentangling herself from their emotions, letting them down easily. A handful of times, she had simply vanished, but always because _they_ had gotten too attached; she'd liked most of them, been fond of more than a few, but any deeper emotions had been untouched, secure behind the barriers that she had learned years before.

Somehow, a one-eyed Marine with scars on body and soul had made it past her defenses without even trying. In the hours they had spent talking, Talia had drawn more of Leliana's own story from her than she had revealed to anyone before. Not all of it, of course, but as the soldier had opened up to her, sharing the pain of the loss of her family on Mindoir, the deaths of her squadmates on Akuze, Leliana had shared her own memories of her mother singing to her, her childhood on a farming colony devoted to viniculture, the day that childhood had ended with her mother sagging to the ground, just-picked grapes tumbling from limp fingers. She'd told more than she'd intended … felt more than she'd intended; the tears she had shed had not been entirely calculated, and the comfort she'd taken from the feel of Talia's arms around her had not been feigned.

So gentle. Hands that dealt death had touched her hair, her cheek, as though she were made of spun glass, and Talia had simply held her, not using the moment of vulnerability to push for greater intimacy. It would have been easy enough for Leliana to manipulate the situation to that end; lifting her head and letting their lips meet would have unleashed the fire that smoldered between them. Instead, she had let her head rest on Talia's shoulder, breathing in the freshly-showered scent of her and trying to get control of emotions that had never been part of her plan. Tenderness, yearning … guilt.

The secrets she had stolen thus far had been relatively minor. An offhanded complaint about the performance of a Hahne-Kedar sniper rifle that might give an edge to Elanus on the next round of bids on Alliance weapons contracts. A cocky remark as Talia was leaving on a mission that had provided enough warning to clear out a red sand operation ahead of the raid. In each case, a quick message to the Shadow Broker had resulted in the information being routed to the interested parties, with funds deposited in her account a short time later.

No one got hurt. That was what she had told herself each time, but she had known that it wouldn't matter; Talia would still view it as nothing less than a betrayal, and those comparatively trivial revelations had not been her ultimate aim. The kind of secrets that she had originally sought were the kind that could definitely get people hurt. Maybe killed. Maybe Talia.

Such concerns had never impeded her before … had never even occurred to her, to be honest. She was simply the information broker; what the buyer did with the information she provided was neither her concern nor her responsibility. For the first time in her life, guilt haunted her. Guilt and fear. An information broker could not be hampered by either and hope to survive long in the cutthroat world that spanned the galaxy, stretching alongside and beyond Citadel authority.

It had to end, but having given up on her ultimate goal, Leliana had been determined to claim a consolation prize. One night with Talia, and she would disappear, move on and forget about the Marine. She'd been well on her way to achieving her aim until the alert had sounded.

That had been three days ago, and while cold logic argued that the safest, sanest thing to do would be to pack up and go while Talia was deployed, something else held her in place as first one day, then a second, had passed without any word. They had been on longer missions, true enough, but never a level 4. Missions in the Alliance military were categorized by risk and priority. Level 4 indicated high priority, high risk: lives were at stake, combat all but certain. Such missions were dangerous, but they also tended to be short in duration, the objective attained – or not – in a brief but intense period. To have heard nothing – not from Talia, nor Erin or Alistair – had Leliana's stomach twisting into ever tighter knots. It would not be the first time that an entire unit had been lost on a mission, and given the nature of N7 operations, it was likely that the news would never be made public. Sitting here and waiting made no sense, but she had options unavailable to the average person, skills that she could put to use -

The chime at the door made her heart leap into her throat, and she paused to gather herself before moving to answer it, afraid to give the hope that fluttered in her chest too much power.

"Oh, God." The relief that washed through her as the door slid open to reveal Talia standing in the corridor shifted rapidly to consternation at the soldier's condition. Talia regularly sought her out when she returned from her missions, but always after taking the time to clean up, change clothes. This time, it looked as though she had done nothing more than ditch her armor. The BDU's that had been worn beneath it were dirty and torn in several spots. Her hair had largely escaped the normally neat braid that she maintained it in and was similarly disheveled, bits of debris clinging to the flyaway strands. Her face was smeared with dirt and blood, with a shallow cut scoring the line of her right cheek. No other visible damage, but her right eye had a distracted, unfocused look, and her expression was that of one still trying to absorb a tremendous blow. "Talia, what happened?"

The soldier didn't seem to hear her. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped back, watching in concern as Talia entered. She didn't appear seriously injured – not physically, anyway, but - "What's wrong?"

Again, Talia did not act as though her words had registered. "Half the damn lifts are being repaired," she complained with no real heat, her gaze still not quite in the present. "Just in time for the fucking weekend. Would've been easier getting here to just suit up and walk down the outside of the damn station. You'd think they'd know by now when -"

"Talia!" Catching her shoulder, Leliana forced the other woman to face her. "What is it? Erin and Alistair … are they -" She couldn't finish. She'd grown fond of the other two Marines, but worse than her own sorrow at their deaths would be what it would do to Talia.

Talia's forehead creased in puzzlement. "What? No, they're fine." She blinked, looking around, seeming to realize for the first time where she was. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here," she muttered, turning back toward the door. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking -"

"It's all right." Leliana intercepted her, reaching up to touch her cheek, wincing as her fingers traced the crusted blood. "I'm glad that you did. I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," Talia replied, closing her eye and leaning slightly into the touch, then looking down at herself with a grimace. "But I haven't showered since we left."

"You can use mine," she replied, grasping Talia's arm and drawing her in that direction. "I can order some food … are you hungry?"

"Not really," the soldier replied, but she allowed herself to be led. "Need clean clothes, though," she mused, fingering one of the tears. "Think these are shot."

"I'll take care of that," Leliana assured her, ushering her into the bathroom. "You get cleaned up." She waited for the nod of assent before she stepped out, but not until she heard the sound of the water running did she move to her communications console.

"She's there?" Shepard skipped the customary greeting. She looked no less bedraggled than Talia: hair mussed, face grimy, and the same haunted look in the green eyes.

"She's here," Leliana confirmed, "and you both look like hell. What happened, Erin?"

Shepard shook her head. "That's for Talia to tell you, but it wasn't good." Her gaze locked onto Leliana, the strength of her personality palpable even through a vidscreen. "Make her stay, will you? The two of you need to end this game you're playing; life's too fucking short."

"She's showering now," Leliana told her. "Could you bring some clean clothes for her. The ones she was wearing -"

Erin uttered a rough laugh. "Yeah, might as well burn them. I'll dig up something, but you damn well better make sure she doesn't get into them for a while." The bleak humor faded, leaving only a weary sincerity in the green eyes as she added, "I'm glad she's got you."

The screen went black before Leliana could reply, guilt churning in her belly along with a swell of sympathy for the other woman. Alistair was undoubtedly finding comfort in Erika's arms, and Talia did have her … for now, anyway, but Erin Shepard was alone, as she had been for most of the time that Leliana had known her.

She kept one ear attuned to the thrum of the shower, but it was still running when the chime at the door announced Shepard's arrival. The blonde looked even worse in person, but she waved off Leliana's concern.

"Take care of her," she said, nodding toward the closed door to the bathroom as she passed off the pile of neatly folded clothes.

"Who's taking care of you?" Leliana wanted to know. Erin quirked an easy grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Got a hot date with a cold beer," she quipped. "That and about ten years of shuteye should do just fine."

She was gone before Leliana could invite her in, leaving the redhead caught between guilt and relief. Talia would not have objected to Erin's presence, and the company might have done both of them some good, but …

She glanced toward the bathroom door, biting lightly at her lip. It would be easy to leave now. Leave a note with an excuse of getting food, and Talia would not look for her until long after she had hopped on a flight to the Citadel. It _should_ have been easy … but it wasn't.

Laying the clothes on the foot of her bed, she approached the door, pausing outside to listen. No sounds from within but the shower. Running out of hot water was not an issue, but Talia had been in there for much longer than washing up would have required. After another moment, she pushed the door open and peered inside.

The bathroom was a no-frills affair: toilet, sink and shower, all of it cast in the same, slate-grey polymer with the bare minimum fixtures in stainless steel and a light panel set into the ceiling. An ionic curtain kept the water from the shower within the confines of the stall, but gave an unobstructed view of the lone occupant.

Talia stood motionless beneath the spray, head down, shoulders slumped, hands splayed flat against the wall in front of her, wet hair fallen forward to obscure her face. She was the picture of weary dejection, and yet, Leliana could not help drinking in the sight of her: more than she had ever been allowed to see before. The scars on her left side extended over that shoulder and across her back, the acid burns mingling with what looked like marks left by a savage lashing, pale against the dusky skin, stretched and faded with age, but still prominent enough to make it clear how agonizing they must have been when they were received. Beneath the scars and skin, the toned lines of her musculature were on clear display, and the designers of the prosthetic limbs had clearly sculpted them to mirror her anatomy, the lines of metal and polymer flowing seamlessly into flesh, though they remained uncamoflaged and obviously, defiantly artificial. She was magnificent.

Stepping inside, she closed the door quietly behind her, then slipped out of her own clothes, letting them fall to the floor. There was the faintest tingle over her skin as she stepped through the ionic curtain, the cooler air replaced by warmth and swirling steam. Talia did not move, did not speak, and for a long moment, neither did Leliana as she watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around the trim waist, she pressed her lips to the scarred skin between the shoulder blades.

A shudder rolled through the muscles beneath her touch, and then Talia was turning in her arms, heated gazes locking for an instant before Leliana's lips were claimed in a fiery kiss.

 _God!_ Leliana had been kissed with lust and tenderness, passion and trepidation, and nearly everything in between, but she had never before been kissed with this kind of urgent hunger: as though she were oxygen, sustenance, _life_. The slow burn flared incandescent in a heartbeat, and she surrendered to it, tangling her fingers in the wet hair as Talia pressed her hard against the cool tiles, kissing her with a single-minded intensity that seared away everything but the need to do the same in return.

Then suddenly, Talia was pulling back. "This ain't right," the soldier muttered, looking guilty. "I shouldn't be using you to -"

"Hssssh." Leliana silenced her with a finger to her mouth. "I want this. I want _you_." She let her fingertip trace the swell of a lower lip, then slid her hand to the back of Talia's neck, drawing her down, teasing her with feather-light kisses and a flickering tongue, purring her approval as her lover pressed forward with renewed hunger, the cybernetic left hand cupping the back of her head as the kiss deepened thrillingly while Talia's right hand glided over wet skin: thigh to hip to belly to breast, cupping the soft flesh in her palm and kneading it slowly at first, but with rapidly increasing urgency.

 _Quick … God!_ This would be no slow exploration. Both of them had been denying themselves for weeks, and Talia's mood was the final tipping factor. Leliana willingly parted her legs at the press of a strong thigh, squirming closer as the cybernetic hand dropped to the small of her back to pull her closer still, skin sliding against skin in an urgent cadence.

"Yesss!" Leliana tipped her head back, baring her neck to Talia's ardent attentions, panting cries escaping her parted lips as her lover nipped and licked along the line of her racing pulse. The hand at her breast dropped, sliding over her belly and between her legs, fingers barely pausing to tease before plunging into her hard and deep.

She gasped, hooking her leg around Talia's hip, spreading herself wider for her lover and rocking to meet each thrust. Letting her head fall forward, she let her mouth play with the shell of Talia's ear, tongue flickering at the lobe. "Now," she panted, feeling herself hurtling past the point of no return. "God, yes, Talia, _now_!"

She came hard, her cries filling the tiny room, nails digging into Talia's skin as she held on tight, and Talia was relentless, keeping her pinned to the wall, writhing and crying out with each new surge of pleasure until she was utterly spent. She sagged forward, feeling deliciously boneless, trusting the strength of the arm that held her and the muscled body pressed to hers, feeling the rate of Talia's breath gradually slowing.

"That … went a lot faster than I intended," Talia spoke after a time, her voice husky. "Sorry."

"I'm not." Brushing a final kiss against Talia's shoulder, Leliana drew back until she could look into Talia's eye, rolling her hips against the fingers that were still within her and watching hunger flare in her lover's gaze. She wanted more. So very much more. "We have all night, after all."

OOO

"What happened?"

They had made it to the bed on their second attempt, and Leliana had stopped keeping track of anything at that point. She had no idea how much time had passed, but the last of the coiled tension had finally seeped out of Talia's muscles and her expression had grown relaxed enough that Leliana thought it safe to ask the question, her head resting on the other woman's shoulder, looking up into her face.

Talia was silent for a long moment, left arm snugged around Leliana's waist, the fingers of her right hand trailing idly through the red hair, her gaze growing distant, directed toward the ceiling.

"Batarians," she said softly, the hate in her voice no less palpable for it. "They raided a colony, but we got there before they were done. They took hostages and ran, we followed. We had their ship, so we figured once we cornered them, they'd use the hostages as bargaining chips."

"But they didn't." It was not a question, and Leliana tightened the arm that was draped across Talia's body.

"Nope." Talia's jaw clenched, mouth set in a grim line. "As we closed in, they killed the hostages. _Then_ they surrendered."

" _Merde_ ," Leliana breathed. "All of the hostages."

"All of them," Talia confirmed in a tightly controlled voice. "Men. Women. Children. Seventeen in all."

"What did you do?" She could well imagine the way the strike team would have responded to such calculated brutality.

Talia snorted, lips curving into a mirthless smile. "Followed Alliance policy and accepted their surrender, what else? Shep was commanding, and she won't take a crap that's not authorized in the regulations."

"I'm sorry," Leliana murmured, stretching up to press a gentle kiss to Talia's cheek.

"It's done," Talia replied with a shrug, her expression set. "They're on their way to a prison that'll seem like a resort compared to the shitholes they normally live in, and 'We regret to inform you' messages are being sent to the families of the dead. Mission completed." She turned her head to look at Leliana. "And I don't want to talk about it any more." Her right hand drifted down, over Leliana's shoulder to the curve of her breast.

"All right," Leliana agreed, and pushed herself upright, shifting until she was straddling the soldier's hips. Capturing the wrist of the cybernetic left hand, she lifted it, pressing her own hand palm to palm. "Does it feel anything?" she asked, letting her fingers brush lightly over the synthetic skin. Talia had used it during their lovemaking, but only to hold Leliana in place, or to support her own weight. Teasing touches, caresses, penetration had all been done with her right hand.

"Depends on what you mean by _feel_ ," Talia replied. "It's pressure and temperature sensitive well past the limits of human tissues, all of it tied into my nervous system. It can crush a bone or catch a soap bubble, but it can't feel, not really." Her right hand came up, fingers grazing the curve of Leliana's cheek. "Can't feel this."

Around to trace the swell of her lower lip. "Or this."

Down along the line of her throat, feather-light, and Leliana felt her breath catch. "Or this."

Hunger gleamed in that single dark eye as the hand continued its journey south, a single index finger making a slow spiral inward on her breast, teasing the nipple into hardness. "Or this."

Lower still, fingers trailing across her belly with exquisite slowness. "Or this."

Then … finally … brushing lightly through auburn curls. "Or this," Talia whispered fiercely as she pressed inward.

So tempting, but Leliana resisted, grasping the wrist of that talented hand and pinning it and its inorganic counterpart above their owner's head. "Not so fast, Lieutenant," she purred, leaning down to steal a kiss. "My turn … or did you think I didn't notice?" While Talia had seemed to very much enjoy the sex, she had not climaxed even once, her focus entirely on pleasuring Leliana, and while it had been very, very pleasurable indeed, it hardly seemed fair.

"It's no big deal," Talia replied with a careless shrug. "Never really works for me with anyone. I'm sure the shrinks would have a field day analyzing it, but that's just the way it is. I can take care of myself when I'm alone. No sense in you wasting time when we could be having fun." She made a half-serious attempt to free herself, but Leliana held on.

"Would you care to wager on whether or not I will be wasting my time?" she challenged her.

Talia studied her like a wolf finding itself facing down a particularly feisty hare, an amused smile playing at her lips. "You're on. How much time should I give you?"

"If you find yourself keeping track of time, feel free to stop me," Leliana replied with a sultry smile, releasing her subject's wrists and devoting herself fully to the task at hand. Talia tried to maintain her poise, but the amusement on her face gave way to surprise, then rapt pleasure, and Leliana savored the feel of that beautiful, scarred body arching and shuddering beneath her touch, the sound of Talia's voice gasping out her name, the sight of her head thrown back, eye closed tight, hands clenching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Scarcely had the throes of her release passed when Talia twisted, pinning Leliana beneath her, and neither of them kept track of time for a good while.

"You are incredible."

Leliana opened her eyes and looked up into Talia's face, the expression there softer than she'd ever seen. "You're just now figuring that out?" she teased, reaching up and drawing her finger down the other woman's nose. Stretching up, she brushed a kiss over Talia's left cheek, just below the eye patch, then kissed a trail to that ear, nuzzling along her throat.

"You really do have a thing for scars, don't you?" Talia asked, amusement back in her voice, and Leliana drew back until their eyes met.

"Maybe I just have a thing for you." The playful words came easily to her tongue, but the truth behind them made her drop her gaze, struggling with emotions that she could ill afford until a gentle hand beneath her chin lifted her head until she was looking into Talia's face again.

"Maybe I've got a thing for you, too," Talia said softly, leaning in for a gentle kiss, then another, and then Leliana was drawing her back down, this lovemaking sweet and slow and so much more dangerous than any of the passion that preceded it.

It had to end. She knew it, and as she finally drifted towards sleep, Talia's front pressed to her back, a strong arm draped over her waist, she told herself that she would leave in the morning. Taking up Talia's hand, she brought it up between her breasts, covering it with her own hand as she snuggled her whole length back into the warmth behind her, feeling the contented rumble in her lover's chest, the kiss pressed to the back of her neck.

Just for tonight, she promised herself.

OOO

 **2185 CE, Normandy SR-2 in orbit over Hagalaz**

" _Lieutenant-Commander?"_

Talia cracked open her eye on the third repetition. "Wassit, EDI?" she mumbled, still somewhere between awake and asleep. The AI had a tonal range that was considerably wider than the virtual intelligence units she'd worked with, and the words lacked the urgency that would have brought her fully alert at once, but EDI didn't usually bug her while she was sleeping.

" _Leliana's vital signs and brain wave activity indicate that she is experiencing what humans call a nightmare."_

The eye popped all the way open, and Talia glowered into the darkness of the shuttle. "And?"

" _Commander Shepard instructed me to inform you if she experienced any difficulties."_

 _Fuck you very much, Shep,_ Talia mouthed before adding aloud, "Can't you just call the doc, get her a sleeping pill or something?"

" _Dr. Chakwas said that she has refused further sedation and suggested that your company might be beneficial."_ Was that damn computer smirking? It sure as hell sounded like it, but it didn't matter. She'd been double-teamed, and she knew better than to argue.

"All right," she groaned as she rolled off the bench seat. "But you can tell them both that they fucking owe me."

" _I will relay the message."_ Oh yeah, the cyber-bitch was definitely smirking now, but at least she'd dialed the lights in the shuttle up low. Talia eyed the bag with her clean clothes in it, decided that changing was too damn much trouble when she intended to be done with the mission and back in her temporary bunk ASAP, and padded barefoot through the hangar to the elevator.

The ship was well into the night cycle, and with EDI's tireless vigilance, not even a skeleton crew was needed while they were in a stable orbit, which spared Talia the irritation of curious eyes watching. Even the medbay was dark, but she shot a pointed glare in that direction as she passed, just on principle.

She paused outside the closed door to her quarters, telling herself that she was listening, knowing that was bullshit. Cerberus was a bunch of assholes, but they'd built a damn fine ship (that they wouldn't be getting back). Individual compartments were pretty well soundproof, which meant that Talia could turn up her music as loud as she pleased, but which also meant that Leliana could be taking a chainsaw to the furniture without so much as a whisper audible out here.

 _Chickenshit._ What the hell was she afraid of? Answer: not a goddam thing. Right? Right. Setting her jaw, she opened the door, stepped inside, eyes going first to the bed, which was empty, the sheets rumpled.

"Leliana?" She barely kept herself from using the diminutive again, hating how easy it was to slip up that way.

"What are you doing here?"

She spun, hand dropping to the sidearm that wasn't there, and immediately felt like an ass, because who else would it be but Leliana, rising from behind the bar.

"What are you doing there?" she shot back defensively.

"Getting a drink." The words had a touch of the old smoothness, but the eyes told another story, even as her hands were reaching for one of the bottles. She'd been hiding back there. "Care for something?"

"No thanks." There was a reason that she and Alistair had damn near come to blows over who would get this particular berth. First damn ship she'd served on with a wet bar. If she was feeling social, she even let her crewmates share. Al had lost the toss and grumbled all the way to the starboard observation. "EDI said you weren't sleeping well," she offered with a shrug.

"The A.I.?" Leliana asked, pouring three fingers of whiskey into a tumbler.

"V.I.," Talia corrected her.

The faintest of smiles. "That's no virtual intelligence," the redhead countered. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Who would you tell?" Talia asked, unable to keep the edge out of her voice despite feeling a bit bad about an admittedly cheap shot.

"True enough," Leliana agreed with a meekness that made Talia feel even worse. She tipped the glass up, drained half the whiskey in two swallows.

"Doctor Chakwas can give you something to help you sleep," Talia offered. It wasn't an apology, but it was as close as she was going to get.

Leliana shook her head. "I've been drugged enough," she declared, blue eyes daring Talia to comment as she drank the rest of the whiskey and stepped from behind the bar.

Any smartass remarks about drugs of choice were buried beneath the realization that the medbay-issue scrub shirt that the redhead was wearing was not matched by pants. The shirt covered her ass, but not by much, and even though the legs were still painfully thin, the skin still etched with scars, the sight stirred up memories that Talia had no intention of revisiting. She quickly shifted her gaze upward, but Leliana did not seem to notice, her attention focused on the floor-to-ceiling viewing port, through which Hagalaz was visible below, lightning flickering fitfully through the heavy clouds that obscured the surface of the planet.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Leliana said softly.

That wouldn't have been the first word that Talia would have chosen, but then, her evaluations tended to be focused on defensible versus exposed and other practical criteria. "Better up here than down there," she offered, stepping to the window, keeping a healthy distance between them.

Leliana nodded. "I never saw outside the ship," she mused. "I never saw outside ..." She trailed off, her lips tightening into a thin line and her arms crossing protectively. "It must have been dangerous," she went on at last. "Outside the ship, trying to get in."

Talia shrugged. "Just part of the job." N7's did the shit that nobody else was crazy enough – or good enough – to even try.

The blue eyes cut sideways to her, the look in them unreadable. "Yes," Leliana murmured, turning away from the window and moving back toward the bed, then the desk, her fingers trailing over the small music console.

Talia shifted slightly, feeling restless and awkward as hell. What was she doing here? "You gonna stay with Liara?" she asked, for lack of anything better to say.

"I don't know." Leliana shook her head, biting lightly at her lower lip. "I most likely will for now. I have nowhere else to go." The words were spoken without any hint of self-pity. "And I would imagine that the Alliance will revive the bounty on me once they hear that I am alive."

"They won't be hearing it from us," Talia replied gruffly, a bit miffed that she might have even considered it a possibility. "And Liara ought to be able to help you keep below the radar, set you up with a new identity."

"Yes." Leliana turned to face her, blue eyes serious. "I did not think that you or Erin would turn me in, Talia, but I do not know what Cerberus might do. I don't trust them."

"You're not the only one," Talia snorted, "but the crew of the Normandy is loyal to Shep. They'll all follow her lead, except Miranda, and she already knows that I'll cut her fucking throat if she crosses us."

"Alistair seems quite taken with her," Leliana observed, adding after a brief hesitation, "She reminds me a bit of Erika."

Talia didn't even try to contain the bark of derisive laughter. "Oh, sure … if Erika was a bioengineered bitch working for a black ops organization that has set up more clusterfucks than a whorehouse on Omega."

"Do you really think that Alistair would be interested in Miranda if that's all there was to her?" Leliana challenged her.

"Yes! No! I don't know," Talia snapped, irritated at the question. "His only criteria the whole time I've known him has been 'hot' and 'willing'." That this seemed to have changed for Miranda Lawson, regardless of her status as Cerberus' head cheerleader, had caused a sense of betrayal that she still had to wrestle down. He was her best friend, her brother in all but blood; she wanted him to be happy, but -

Leliana watched her. "It must be difficult to accept, after what Cerberus put you through," she offered, her tone careful.

"Figured that out for yourself, did you?" Talia inquired tersely, feeling the angry betrayal that she'd thought herself done with trying to rise. "Nice of you to give me a heads-up." The discovery of the connection between Akuze and Cerberus, uncovered during the hunt for Saren, had rocked Talia to her core, and the realization that Leliana had likely known long before that had been salt in a wound she'd thought long healed.

Leliana sighed. "After I … left, I was forbidden to have any further contact with you."

"After you _left_?" Talia stared at her, feeling the anger surging higher. "After you fucking sold me and fuck only knows how many other Alliance soldiers out to your boss and left me holding the bag, you mean?"

"Talia, I know how it looked, but I swear to you, I did not send that message!" Leliana protested.

She could feel the nails of her right hand digging into her palm, feel the pulse pounding in her temples. "I fucking _saw_ it," she grated out. "Sent from your account – from your _computer_ \- to a blind drop linked to the Shadow Broker! Don't fucking tell me -"

"I wrote it, yes," Leliana admitted desperately, "but I deleted it. I couldn't send it; it could have gotten you killed! I don't know how -"

" _Bullshit!"_ Talia roared, taking a step forward, but her rage evaporated at the sight of Leliana shrinking back against the wall, face pale and eyes wide with sudden fear. Fear of her. Six years ago … hell, six months ago, she would have relished the sight, but now - "Shit." She took a step back, then another for good measure, scrubbing her hand over her face and dragging her fingers through her hair. "I shouldn't have come," she muttered. The woman in front of her had been dragged through more than enough hell to have paid for any crimes she'd committed. Talia just needed to stay away from her until they left; Shepard and Chakwas could babysit, if they were worried. Spinning on her heel, she headed for the door.

"Don't go." The plea slowed her steps, but it was the whispered, "Please?" that brought her to a stop.

"What do you want from me?" she asked in a low voice. For years, she had imagined what she would say if she ever caught up with Leliana, but this wounded creature bore no resemblance at all to the confident and sensual woman she had known, or the unrepentant spy that she had dreamed of confronting.

"I just … don't want to be alone," Leliana said falteringly. "I don't want to be afraid."

Talia turned back to her, frowning. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she said, hoping that she sounded reassuring instead of impatient. Hand holding was not one of her specialties. "You're likely safer here than anywhere else in the galaxy. The yahg is dead, and nothing gets onto this ship without passing EDI."

"I know that." Leliana dropped her eyes, looking miserable. "I know it, but … I've forgotten how not to be afraid. For two years, I -" She broke off, swallowing hard before continuing. "Alone, I can't keep the memories out. When I woke up before, I couldn't remember where I was, what had happened." Her shoulders hunched, shame tinting the pale cheeks. "When you came in, I wasn't getting a drink. I was trying to hide behind the bar."

Talia remembered the nightmares she'd endured after Mindoir and Akuze, remembered the fear and grief, but both times, she'd had hate to warm the cold void that they left behind, give her something else to focus on. If there was any hate in Leliana, it was buried beneath the weight of the memories. "Stuff like that … it takes time to get over," she offered awkwardly, feeling like an ass for stating the obvious, but unsure what else to say.

"I know that, too," Leliana replied, nodding slightly, "but right now, it feels as if that is all that has ever been and all that ever will be. Please," she licked her lips nervously. "We don't have to talk. Just … stay? Dance with me?"

 _Do_ _ **what**_ _?_ Talia stared at her in astonishment, but Leliana reached out to touch the music console with one thin hand, and slow music flowed from the speakers. Familiar music. Music she thought she had fucking deleted. "Leli, I -"

"Nothing else," Leliana said, dropping her eyes again, visibly bracing herself against rejection. "Just a dance … please?"

 _Well, crap._ She could walk away from the music, the memories, but Talia could not refuse that fragile plea. She stepped forward cautiously, approaching the way she would a feral cat poised to flee, but Leliana moved to meet her without looking up, sliding thin arms up and around Talia's neck and leaning her head against the soldier's shoulder.

Then, she didn't move.

Talia waited, arms draped loosely around her, but after one awkward minute began to bleed into another, it fell to her to ease them into a shuffling sway that kind of matched the tempo of the music. Leliana followed her lead without speaking, never lifting her head. The song ended and another began, and Talia wondered if Leliana had set up the playlist ahead of time, how long this dance would last. It felt … dammit, it didn't feel like _anything_ , because it didn't _mean_ anything. It was just a favor she was doing for Shep and the doc and -

And Leliana was crying.

She didn't make a sound, her shoulders didn't shake, but Talia could feel the hot tears on her skin where Leliana had pressed her face into her neck. She didn't have any idea what to do, so she just kept them swaying, trying to ignore the tight knot of emotion trying to form in her chest, swearing silently that she was going to kick Erin's ass for getting her into this.

She felt Leliana's legs waver just in time to catch the redhead as her knees buckled, lifting her and carrying her to the bed. Putting her down, however, was not quite as simple.

"Don't leave me alone!" she begged, holding on tight.

"I'm not!" Talia gave up on freeing herself and sank to the mattress, ass over the edge as she tried to get as far away as she could without falling off. Of her own goddamn bed. "Shit," she muttered aloud without meaning to.

"I'm sorry," Leliana whispered. "I just need to feel safe."

"All right." Talia closed what distance between them she'd managed to open, wrapping her arms around the painfully thin body and drawing the light blanket over them both. "All right." Leliana snuggled in … and kept snuggling. It wasn't an attempt at seduction … more like an attempt to crawl right inside her skin … which left Talia still at an utter loss at what to do. She settled for stroking the red hair and making what she hoped were soothing sounds until Leliana stilled, her breathing deepening and slowing into the rhythm of sleep.

Leaving one marine alone with thoughts that were anything but restful. All the crap that she had very forcibly placed behind her six years ago was being dragged front and center. The whole damn ship knew about her past with the former spy, right down to EDI … which meant that Cerberus and the Illusive Man knew, just like they'd know about Liara taking over the Shadow Broker's gig. What if the asshole thought that targeting Leliana was a way to gain leverage over Talia?

Beside her, Leliana stirred, whimpering in her sleep. Talia froze, then gingerly resumed stroking her hair and making soft shushing noises until the other woman quieted once more, still holding onto Talia like a lifeline.

Damn it, stuff like this was exactly the kind of thing that could give the wrong impression to the wrong people, which was exactly why Talia would be skulking out of here early in the morning and telling Erin to belay any more attempts at engineering a warm and fuzzy reconciliation that was _not_ happening. They'd be gone in a couple more days, Liara could take care of Leliana, and if Shep decided any further booty calls to Shadow Broker Central were in order, Talia could take shore leave on Ilos or Omega, because she did _not_ need this shit.

Right? _Damn_ right.

She would have bet a month's salary (not that she was actually getting paid for this gig, mind you) that sleep was not in the cards, but she must have dozed off at some point, because she missed the onset of the next cycle of nightmares until the point when her bedmate came up fighting.

"Leli – OW!" Nails raked down the side of her face, and when she corralled the flailing hands, a headbutt set stars dancing in her vision. "Leli, dammit, it's me!" she hissed, trying to be quiet, trying to be gentle, because the blue eyes held nothing but raw panic. The struggles stilled as the terror-filled gaze focused on her face, recognition dawning -

Without warning, she found herself dragged down, soft lips crashing into hers, fingers tangling in her hair preventing her from pulling away from the frantic kiss.

Not that she was trying to.

So. Damn. _Easy_. Muscle memory had nothing on this. It should have been scary, how easy it was, but Talia was busy trying to taste every bit of that sweet mouth, her hands slipping over Leliana's arms, her back, her hips, her thighs, some part of her mind appalled at just how thin the other woman was, but most of her intent on reclaiming what was _hers_.

A leg hooked around hers, teeth nipping hard at her throat, and Talia growled her approval, rolling until Leliana was beneath her. The switch flipped back as quickly as it had flipped on: passion back to panic, and Talia reacted instantly to the feel of Leliana suddenly going rigid, launching herself three feet away from the bed, the edge of her desk biting into her ass and her heart hammering triple-time in her chest.

"Sorry," she managed to get out, breathing hard, desire and guilt going head to head behind her eye. "Sorry." _Shit, shit, SHIT!_

"It's not your fault," Leliana whispered, huddled beneath the blanket.

"The fuck it's not," Talia rasped. What the fuck had she been thinking?

 _ **Don't**_ _answer that._

She pushed herself away from the desk in the direction of the door. "I'll … find somebody to stay with you," she promised. Somebody with something resembling self control.

"Talia, no, don't -"

Talia didn't let her get to the 'please' this time. "I'll find somebody else," she repeated through gritted teeth without looking back or stopping until the door closed behind her.

Actually, she didn't even stop then, and she was halfway to the elevator before she realized that Fearless Leader was planetside shagging the Shadow Broker. In her present mood, she would have simply commandeered the shuttle, but she realized that another suitable candidate was only the breadth of the ship away.

" _Lieutenant Commander, Commander Theirin is -"_

"Stow it, EDI," Talia snarled as she stalked along the corridor. The three of them had access to each others berths, and Talia didn't bother ringing the bell. "Look, I know it's late, but I need a – _WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU_ _ **DOING**_?"

" _\- currently engaged in an intimate encounter with Commander Lawson,"_ the cyber-bitch finished smugly.

"Trying to take your advice," Miranda said calmly as she sat up, displaying her genetically engineered rack without a hint of self-consciousness. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, but Talia would gouge out her other eye before she admitted that to _anyone_. Alistair was being self-conscious enough for them both, anyway: clutching a pillow over his lap and making sounds like a chicken being throttled. Like she'd never seen his dick before. Okay, maybe she'd never seen it in this context, but they had changed clothes and taken leaks within sight of each other regularly from N1 training on.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to gather the shredded scraps of her patience. "I need you to stay with Leliana tonight," she told him. "She's having nightmares and doesn't want any of Doc's pills."

"Why can't you stay with her?" he whined.

"I tried," Talia growled. "It didn't go well."

"It looks as though it was going fairly well from what I can see," Miranda remarked archly, her eyes on Talia's neck, where a hickey was no doubt visible.

She felt her hands curling into fists. "Look, bitch -"

"All right, all right." Alistair scrambled out of the bed and started jamming his legs into his pants. The truce between Talia and Miranda was a fragile one – on Talia's end, anyway – and he knew it. "I'm going, I'm going. Sorry," he offered lamely to Miranda, who accepted it with a shrug and a sigh.

"Another time," she said, reaching for her own clothes, then shooting Talia a pointed glance. "Do you mind?"

"What, the Illusive Man's the only one allowed to watch?" she taunted the Cerberus operative, though she, Alistair and Shepard had swept and cleared their respective berths of any bugs at the onset of this mission. But she did turn away, because she had no interest in watching. Cobras were nice to look at; didn't mean she wanted to bang one. "Thanks," she muttered to Alistair, feeling maybe the tiniest bit guilty … maybe.

He glared at her as he dragged his shirt over his head. "You so fucking owe me."

"Noted." The assorted adrenaline surges of the last fifteen minutes were receding, leaving weariness in their wake, but Talia knew that sleep would not be possible any time soon. "I'm gonna get a shower," she told him as she left.

A long, cold one.


End file.
